Beginnings, After the End
by Sibilant Macabre
Summary: VincentTifa. After Advent Children, the heroes simply try to get on with their lives. Some have old ghosts behind them. But comfort can be found in the most unexpected places, as well as new friendships, new memories and even a strange new kind of love.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** This story is a **_role play fiction_**, meaning the tale is told in posts, or **_blocks of text_**. Put simply, this is co-op'ed by myself, writing Tifa, and my great friend Animenadie writing Vincent. I realize the format is odd and unusual, but since there are **_two authors writing this fiction, _**this style-set is the best I can do with what time I have.

It is set some six months after the events of _Advent Children_ and the upcoming game _Dirge of Cerberus_ is not taken into account here. We've taken liberties with a few things, so please be tolerant. R/R requested and enjoyed, but please be constructive in any criticism given. We do this because we enjoy it and want to share with the other fans of this series and paring. **Fiction has not been Beta'ed; any volunteers would be welcomed.**

I have added paragraphs and spaced the blocks out a bit. I hope this makes for easier reading. This is not read as a _novel_ would be, but rather by _posts_, as it's written in role play form. I hope it helps.

**Disclaimer: **We, in no way whatsoever, own anything of and pertaining to the _Final Fantasy VII _or _Advent Children_ works; that right belongs to other fortunate souls. We also reap no monetary benefits from this exercise in literary creativity.

Beginnings, After the End

_**Chapter One:**_

**Tifa: **

Tifa tossed down the bar towel and sighed. Life was slowly settling back to normal, if one could _call_ it normal, what life had been before all this chaos ravaged the planet. She shook her head and smiled slightly. Well, _normal_ was relative. She gave a glance to the ceiling as quick footsteps pattered overhead; apparently Marlene and Denzel were done with lessons and needed some activity. Such as dishes, cleaning, or maybe just letting them play for a while? She opted for the latter, taking the broom and sweeping the bar floor for the eleventh time that day.

Chores usually helped to alleviate the troublesome thoughts that plagued her during the quiet hours, which was most of the day. Frowning, brown eyes troubled, she resolutely set her mind back to work and thought no more of it until the bar shimmered and sparkled from her labors. Well, she thought, only five more hours till opening time. Five more hours to dwell on…_Stop it_, she chastised herself, going upstairs and deliberately avoiding the closed door at the top of the stair. _He's not here, he's working, so just leave it alone_. Tifa vented a soft snort.

Thankfully, the shrieks of laughter pulled her from the melancholy mood and she gasped as Marlene nearly crashed into her, swinging around and galloping down the stairs, Denzel right behind her.

"Hey, you two!" Tifa shouted, following, "don't make a mess downstairs!" The kids were playing chase, a favorite game that gave Tifa headaches from hell.

Marlene ducked behind a table; Denzel followed and grabbed her ankle. Now it was Marlene's turn and Denzel whooped and burst out the front door, the little girl fast on his heels. Tifa watched them go without worry. Now that peace blanketed the ravaged city of Midgar, there was little danger on the streets. Still, if they didn't return home in an appropriate amount of time, she would bestir herself to go find them and have _another_ lecture about remaining close to home. _Something Cloud should learn_… the thought flitted through her mind before she could stop it.

Grimacing at herself, she whirled and stomped inside, upstairs to her room and opened the window, the better to watch for the kids and sat at her desk, staring unseeing at a pile of paperwork.

**Vincent:**

His red cloak stood out a bit starkly in comparison to the white, pastel and eerie surroundings of the forest, Vincent had long ago decided. Still, this was where he resided for the time being, here just outside the City of the Ancients, where he had saved Cloud from Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo. Also where he had tried to nurse Tseng and Elena after rescuing them, though they left prematurely. Thankfully, he had managed to save their lives at least. Another small bit taken off the long list of penances to be paid.

Leaning against the alabaster trunk of a crystalline tree that mirrored the ghost-like quality of the entire area, Vincent Valentine took out his still-fairly-new cell phone, checking for any new messages. He knew there would be none, but it was a habit. His allies had his number, in case of emergency. Now and then he received a social call from Marlene, who would prattle on about this or that - often about Denzel - as he merely hummed his responses or answered with the occasional short sentence. She didn't seem to mind, and neither did he, though it wouldn't have shown if he did. The child seemed to have more to say that those immediately around her could or would listen to, save perhaps Tifa, though Vincent knew she was busy sometimes, and Barrett was often away doing more than his share of saving the Planet.

When it was confirmed that he had no new voice mail messages, Vincent put the phone back under his cloak in a pocket on his gun-belt. His mind lingered on Tifa, though merely with the curiosity of whether or not she and Cloud had settled anything between them. A few strands of long, jet-black hair had fallen over his let shoulder, which he flicked back in a smooth motion before taking to the tree branches in an effortless leap.

With grace that a cat would be envious of, he bounded from tree to tree until he came to the path leading to the emerald lake... where _she_ had been laid to rest. Cloud had stopped by, only four days prior, yet Vincent had not made himself known. He knew Cloud was here to pay respects to Aeris' memory, with flowers that he tossed into the water. He hadn't stayed long, for which the former Turk was thankful. Still... he _did_ wonder how Tifa was doing. He quickly reminded himself that it was none of his concern, and that she would probably not want his pity or sympathy, if he had any to offer. He supposed that his own past was the key reason why he was pondering her relationship with Cloud to begin with.

With a soft, almost inaudible snort, Vincent turned and disappeared back into the forest. It would be time to feed the beasts soon.

**Tifa:**

After hanging up the phone from an hour conversation with Yuffie she'd neither needed nor wanted, Tifa rested her forehead on the desk, trying not to cry. She'd held tight during Yuffie's eager prattle, going on about this and that while she, Nanaki, and Cait Sith traveled with Cid, searching out new oil fields. Barret was apparently having all the luck, Yuffie had reported, and the construction of the dirks was booming. Naturally, Yuffie had inquired of Cloud and life there in Midgar, to which Tifa had put up a false bright front, assuring her all was well and they were doing fine. Better than ever, actually.

Yuffie had bought it, thankfully, and pressed her no more for information, signing off. Cloud had been gone for nearly ten days now, on this routine little delivery mission he himself had styled, "Just another road trip." But Tifa knew it was bullshit. The anniversary of Aeris's death had been five days ago; she had little doubt where Cloud actually _was_. She rose from her desk and went to lean against the window sill, her heart momentarily lightened to see Marlene and Denzel below, playing tag with other kids in the alley.

An involuntary smile curved her lips; the children were what mattered, she thought resolutely. Our own personal hells are trivial; it will be all right as long as the kids are taken care of. While watching the children cavort and play below, her mind drifted back to memories, wondering if she herself should pay respects to Aeris. They'd been, after all, comrades for a short time. Her lips twitched. Maybe she should. Perhaps it would help if she lay her _own_ ghosts to rest.

The next morning, it took little more than two hours to get the kids settled in with the neighbor next door, her lunch and water in her pack and a ride hitched with a merchant friend headed the proffered way. The truck was old and spavined, the ride bumpy, but Tifa didn't mind. It seemed like _ages_ since she'd been outside Midgar. But the sun was shining, the early spring day warm without being blazingly hot and she relished it.

After four interminable hours, Mr. Oscan stopped the truck and she got out, waving goodbye as his truck limped on down the road. She'd walk from here. The City of Ancients wasn't far, as she remembered, about an hour afoot. Besides, she rather enjoyed the exercise.

**Vincent:**

Holed up in a shallow cave hidden deep in the woods, Vincent lay curled on his side, recovering from the previous night's activities. Through sheer will alone, he had at least been able to confine his transformation to the first and second stages only. His red cloak lay within an arm's reach, as did his brass-shod boots and gun belt. His other clothing he had already replaced. His heart still thumped off-beat now and then, reminding him of the tremendous strain of allowing the monsters out, especially after so long a time.

The more often he allowed himself to transform, the easier it was, though no less painful. He simply couldn't trust himself enough to do it more often. The times when he had done so in battle, even though he was almost fully in control, Vincent could tell it disturbed his comrades. Cid was the most vocal about it, though Valentine could hardly blame him. It was almost better that the near-nauseous or mistrustful looks cast his way by most other members of the group.

Over time, they had come to appreciate his darker skills, though it was a good bet that part of their initial opinions still stood. Clad fully in black, with only his pale, barely visible skin contrasting, he lay there, half dozing the day away. Night would come soon, and he would rouse then. He had little else important to do at the time. The blood from his kills of more monsters and animals than he could remember still filled his nostrils with the scent of iron and plasma, though he had washed any visible traces away earlier. The scent always lingered for a few days, one of the reasons he avoided letting the darker sides of himself out more often.

In his half-sleep, memories tugged at the edges of his mind, battling away any chance of rest. Lucrecia. Hojo. Sephiroth... He pushed them away, thinking instead on other things. Marlene's near adoption of him as a sort of guardian when he was around her, Cid's snide and often vulgar comments on his own dour personality, Barrett calling Cloud a bitch. Even he secretly chuckled a little at that. Within his mind, of course. Cloud was a good person, a hero, but he did have a tendency to brood. It wasn't as if he could judge on that subject, Vincent knew.

He continued thinking over his life as it was now, or rather, the brief moments of contact with people he tentatively called friends.

**Tifa:**

Tifa's good mood lasted the afternoon long. She couldn't remember _when_ she'd felt this carefree and altogether _happy_. It was _good_ to be traveling again, even _if_ she wasn't _too_ far from home and would be returning on the morrow. And somehow, she knew this was the right thing to do. Perhaps she'd always known and, like Cloud, refused to face it. But her heart had immediately eased the moment she'd set it into action. A soft sigh broke her happy humming. _Would that Cloud learn to do the same… _

The landscape changed from sparse vegetation to more dense shrubs and finally gave way to the glorious white trees that marked the City's boundaries. While the path leading inward was rough and uncomfortable for any vehicle, Tifa walked easily along the path, her tennis shoes comfortable and navigated the terrain with alacrity. She'd planned to speak her words to the small river at dusk, when all was quiet and serene and camp there beside the bank, then catch Mr. Oscan on his return route tomorrow morning. All well and thought-out.

Indeed, she arrived at the specified place about mid-afternoon and set up her things in a small niche, perfect for just her. She silently removed shoes and socks and padded barefoot to the river's edge, gazing down into the crystal waters. Her reflection wavered back at her; she couldn't help but smile at the broken images. _Like some of our dreams_…she thought silently, then quickly banished the words away. She hadn't come here to feel sorry for herself. She'd come here to try to make peace.

Tifa crouched beside the edge and dipped one toe into the water. Cool, but not overly chilly. A mischievous idea occurred to her, followed by a maidenly blush and then a furrowed frown. Why not take a swim? No one was around for _miles_ and it would do her good. The water was fresh and sweet and would be nice after such a journey just to _get_ here. Before she could talk herself out of it, Tifa shimmied out of her clothes, laying them across a dry rock, and slipped into the water, the chill taking her breath as she swam about a bit.

But the healing properties eventually did their work and she frolicked merrily before simply slipping back and forth through the current, letting the waters wash her mind free as well as take the slight ache from her muscles. It was good to let go…

**Vincent:**

Preternatural senses detected another bi-pedal being within three miles of him, closer to two, and to the east. Near the water that served as Aeris' memorial. Had Cloud returned? Vincent rose from his cat-nap and shrugged into his trademark red cloak after donning the rest of his personal things. He was curious about the visitor that his ears had alerted him to, even over the distance. It was just as well anyway, rest was not going to come to him this day.

He exited his shelter and moved swiftly, silently through the trees, until he reached the path leading to the river, and followed alongside it behind the treeline. One could never be too careful. His still-sensitive nose scented that the person was female, surprisingly. A moment later, he identified her as Tifa, even before he lurked in the shadows of the ruined city to see her swimming in the water... without her clothes.

He looked away before she exposed anything important to view and debated on simply leaving. Was she here to pay her respects? Or was she looking for Cloud? Valentine guessed there was an equal chance for either. If she were here to give homage to the flower girl's memory, why would she be swimming? Well, Aeris had that affect on people, even in their memories she was able to invoke a sense of right, calm, and happiness. Well, in all but Cloud's mind, it seemed, for she conjured more there.

If Tifa were simply enjoying herself as a way of remembering her friend, then Vincent would be intruding if he gave any clue to his presence. However, if she were looking for Cloud and stopped to merely cool off and perhaps take her mind off things, then he may be of help in her finding him. Cloud was not known to answer his phone more often than not, so if she were unable to reach him that way, it wouldn't be uncommon.

With a soft sigh, he stepped out from his cover, quarter-turned away from her. "I didn't expect to find you here." His voice was low and smooth, quiet.

**Tifa:**

The cleansing river waters had indeed blessed Tifa with a sense of calm and serenity. Diving beneath for a long breath, feeling the silver waters envelop her body, she felt weightless and carefree, light. It was a good feeling. The guilt and sorrow surrounding her own heart gradually eased, a strange feeling since she herself didn't know she carried such. But here in this quiet hallowed place, Tifa's memories of the past were soothed and calmed, leaving her with a refreshed sense of duty and purpose.

It didn't matter that Cloud couldn't let go of his sorrow. That was a matter for Cloud himself; there was naught she could do for the man, save care for him. And she did. Tifa had even once convinced herself she loved him, but as she stroked through the calm cool water, she pulled the notion to the forefront of her mind and evaluated it. Did she love him? Well, certainly she did. Just not in the starry-eyed adoration of an angst ridden teenager. No, she'd matured beyond that, emerging a confident, caring woman, for which she was thankful. Her innate hope and love for life had indeed seen her through. She would have to let Cloud find his own way.

Suddenly, a sense warned her and she whirled around in the water, nearly getting it up her nose as she heard a familiar voice speak. When she could see clearly again, she immediately spied Vincent standing just at the treeline, his vermillion shadow starkly illuminated against the glowing trees.

Still treading water, she blushed hotly then shivered as she realized her predicament. _How embarrassing_… But she couldn't help a small smile, replying, "I know how that feels." Tifa gingerly paddled to the bank and hesitated. "No offense, Vincent, but would you please turn all the way around?"

**Vincent:**

He did turn, before she could even complete the sentence. While she exited the water and dressed, his keen ears noted the sound of the water cascading off her body in streams that ebbed to tiny droplets, the light slap of her wet feet against the ground, the rustle of fabric. He felt a little embarrassed that he'd found her in the way he had, though he hadn't seen anything worth being apologetic for.

With his eyes set stolidly on the white, crystalline trunk of a tree that no longer grew, he decided to offer some brief explanation as to his presence in the area. "It is quiet here. I've been staying here since I left Midgar." His voice remained in the quiet, neutral tone it always had. The digits of his left hand - or claw, rather - clicked together softly, a habit he'd developed similar to popping one's knuckles, and a tiny bit quieter.

"Are you here in remembrance?" He knew he didn't have to say of what

**Tifa:**

Tifa dressed quickly, grunting in a bit of exasperation as the damp cloth stuck to her skin and refused to budge willingly. But finally she had the customary black and white ensemble correct and walked back to her niche, by which Vincent was standing, wringing water from her hair as she went. She flipped the black strands back over her shoulder, nodding assent to Vincent's statement.

"It _is_ quiet here. Very peaceful," she remarked, gazing around. A brow lifted as she glanced at his back, still to her. "You've been here all this time?" she asked, a bit surprised. But she grinned. "I'm dressed; you can turn around now."

Crouching place her shoes and socks beside her pack, she said after a bit of hesitation, "…I-we thought you'd gone to Junon, or perhaps with Barrett." She ducked her head, long hair hiding her face, a childish habit. "We didn't know," she said again, "or you could have come to live with us. Marlene would enjoy your company, I know."

Rising to her feet, she again gazed out over the soothing river. "Remembrance…" she echoed quietly. "Perhaps. Perhaps to repay a debt I didn't know was owed."

**Vincent:**

He turned back to her, watching her with an unreadable expression. Behind that mask, within his mind he wondered if she realized that her clothing was now hugging all her assets. It was hard not to notice and stare, but resolutely he kept his wine-red eyes on her face.

"I did not wish to impose, aside from the fact that - as much as I value the friendships of the others - I am used to being alone," he answered to her comments about his choice of where to live. _And I didn't want to intrude on you and Cloud... _He added silently. He didn't think he would have been able to stand idly by as someone as kind and compassionate as Tifa gave her love to someone who could return it, but instead chose to dwell over another. It was too familiar a situation, and quiet Vincent may have been, but blind he was not. Nor was he incapable of action, and interference from another was the last thing Cloud and Tifa needed.

Valentine respected Cloud, but a tiny bit of resentment was present for the man as well. They were "friends" of sorts, and Vincent hoped they always would be, yet that small seed of cool anger, the tiniest fragment, would stay as long as Cloud brushed aside the one person who had been there for him since long before Vincent had known them. His musings on all that were brief, but deep, before he pushed it aside to inquire on her last comment.

"Debt?" He didn't quite understand that part.

**Tifa:**

For want of anything to do, Tifa crossed arms and idly leaned against a tree trunk, head tilted. "You wouldn't be imposing, Vincent," she assured him with a gentle smile. "We have plenty of room." But an ironic snort permeated her words. "Especially since Cloud's _never _home. Besides," she said, resuming her innate cheeriness, "I can get you a job waiting tables." She winked at him.

But to his latter question, the merriment faded from her warm brown eyes and she nodded. "Yes. Aeris was also one of _my_ companions; I feel responsible for her death. Even though we couldn't have saved her. Perhaps her death was fated, thus her presence in the Lifestream was necessary to defeat Sephiroth. And all that came after." Tifa looked up at Vincent. "And I can finally let the past go."

**Vincent:**

Vincent nodded, "I'm glad you can." He couldn't, not completely. Cloud couldn't, or refused to. Vincent mourned an all-but-dead lover who had broken his heart, but resolved to live on in atonement for letting not only her down... but her son. Cloud mourned the death of a girl who, in all honesty, he barely knew, and who had ultimately, Vincent believed, loved a man named Zack.

Since the Geostigma had been cured and Kadaj's threat put to rest, Cloud had improved only in that he wasn't as moody. He still, according to Tifa, left to do this or that until he felt like coming home. Vincent's gaze fell upon the cool waters where Cloud had stood days before.

For the moment he chose not to reply to her comment about him living with them, feeling the small need to admit what he guessed she already knew while a gentle breeze played with the ends of his onyx hair, blowing his bangs aside so that more of his face was visible.

"Cloud came a few days ago. He did not stay overlong, so I assumed he had business elsewhere..."  
**  
Tifa:**

"Business elsewhere…" Tifa echoed quietly. "I doubt that, Vincent." A sigh escaped her. "No one's called the office directly in three weeks. Or if he _is_ on a job, it's one he engineered privately and didn't bother to tell me." Her voice held a sting of frustration.

Smoothing it, she continued, "I'm not surprised he was here. The…anniversary was what made me think of my own trek here, honestly. But," she said, straightening from the tree, "I think I can go on, now, knowing that all is as it should be with the world. I'd planned to stay the night and journey back tomorrow; Marlene and Denzel are staying with a neighbor."

Tifa placed a tentative hand on Vincent's left arm, the brass cool to her fingers. "Won't you stay with me, Vincent? I'd be grateful for the company." As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. Vincent was here because he _chose_ to remain aloof. She'd always been a bit wary of that aura he projected, as if the very world were riding upon his shoulders, but he'd proven himself a true companion and friend countless times over. True, there was so much more than met the eye, but Tifa had learned long ago not to trust appearances and to see within. But she respected and trusted Vincent enough not to pry, especially since his past was shadowed and hidden.

Withdrawing her hand, she lowered her eyes. "…I'm sorry. I honestly didn't mean to intrude, Vincent. Now that you're here, I just don't want to be alone."

**Vincent:**

He could have, probably should have just nodded and said his goodbye to retreat the way he'd come. Yet truthfully, Tifa was one of the few people Vincent silently enjoyed being around. She never judged, never whispered behind her hand, always had a warm smile for him or anyone else who was blessed enough to even be an acquaintance. He was mildly surprised by her touch on his arm, though the claw had no feeling of its own he could feel the slightest pressure where it joined flesh beneath the metal. Despite his preferences... there were times when he felt truly, deeply lonely.

When her hand retreated, he felt both relief and regret. Had touch become that much of a rarity? A novel comfort and a small fear at the same time? Perhaps it was just where she had touched, or instead, what. Cid had clapped him on the shoulder a few times. Cloud had shaken his human hand. Yuffie had even pinched his side once, apparently trying to test the "tickle-meter" of everyone in the group.

He looked down at Tifa's hand, his mouth hidden behind the high collar of his cloak as he spoke with a softer tone, sincere, "... I would not mind. I have been a bit out of touch since Midgar. I would enjoy your company as well." There. With those words, Vincent felt a small bit of his burden lifted, only because he might give her a little comfort in being someone to share space with, and that he might take mutual comfort in the same.

**Tifa:**

It was the right answer. Tifa's bright smile returned and she immediately made room for him to sit at her small campsite, spreading the blanket wider to accommodate them both. She folded onto it, sitting cross-legged and began to finger-comb her drying hair, humming under her breath. She was terribly curious as to _what_ Vincent had been doing out here all these months, but she wouldn't be nosy and outright _ask_.

Besides, she, as opposed to most of their other friends, was strangely comfortable in Vincent's oft silences. The man never seemed to waste words; he wasn't overly chatty. Which suited Tifa right down to the ground. With day after day of childish prattle, the companionable silence was more than welcome.

After a time of sweet quiet, perhaps an hour or so, Tifa glanced over at the red and black clad man. "How are you doing, Vincent?" she asked quietly, concern in her voice. _And what are you doing out here, all alone?_ She felt stupid for not asking sooner, but all her focus had been on Cloud and Aeris' memory.

"No other…little incidents have been happening, have they?" She referred to the occurrence six months ago, when Kadaj and company had nearly resurrected a nightmare.

**Vincent:**

He sat on the blanket, spaced a little more than a foot from her, with his left leg drawn up, knee bent so that his left arm could prop on it at the elbow, where the claw began. The other leg stretched out a way before him, long and adorned in leather and buckles. His human hand pressed against the blanket at his side, closest to her. He was thankful she didn't prattle on like some did, and together they silently observed the sky dimming from day to night.

She spoke to him just before the stars twinkled into view in the darkening firmament. He didn't look at her as he replied as positively as he could without lying outright, "I am fine." Her second question was easier to answer, "No, all seems well enough here. A while back I had heard of some small rebellions against the remainder of Shin-Ra Corporation... yet that is nothing new."

He knew from her tone that she wanted to ask something more, but Vincent would volunteer nothing else just yet. His reasons for being here would probably be hard for her to fully understand, without him explaining a little more to her than he cared to do.

**Tifa:**

Tifa nodded. "There will always be rebellions, just as there will always be Corporations." She didn't press; she knew he preferred to keep things to himself. If he said he was fine, she wouldn't argue. But _why_ was he still out here? Her lips twitched. She supposed he had his reasons, most of those being buried in his painful past.

But dusk was falling and she'd come here for a reason. As the stars twinkled down through the glade, Tifa reached inside her pack and withdrew a carefully wrapped bundle. Upon opening it, she laid the bouquet of cut flowers aside for a moment, then rose with it and walked to the water's edge, still barefooted.

Tifa knelt down beside the water's edge and closed her eyes, letting the memories of past companions flood behind her closed lids. _Aeris_, she said silently, _my heart aches with the knowledge we couldn't protect you from your unfortunate fate. But you have watched over and kept us safe through further trials, my friend, and I wish you only joy and happiness from now until eternity. May you find rest at last. _

One by one, she placed the flowers, long stemmed and in full-bloom, atop the glassy surface and watched them disappear into the distance, her heart lightened. "Farewell," she whispered, done with her benediction.

**Vincent:**

Vincent watched as Tifa let each flower fall to a watery grave to join the place where Aeris' body had no doubt been absorbed into Lifestream itself. He himself had done the same with a single flower the night after Cloud had left, saying his wordless thanks to the girl for helping to stop what they could not, and more for using her sway with Planet to accept the tragic Kadaj into Lifestream. He wasn't sure if she was able to allow Loz and Yazoo to join him there, their bodies had been gone when he and the others had picked Cloud up, nearly dead after the final attack on him. He did hope that all three had been able to find peace, of some sort.

By the time Tifa rose and turned back to him, he was gazing at the stars, their light, along with the ethereal light of the forest itself, reflecting in his red irises, giving his pale skin a strange, soft glow. Without even looking directly at her, he noticed the light illuminating her in a similar manner. She really was lovely, and in his heart Vincent thought that her qualities exceeded what credit and attention Cloud gave to her. Even Cid and Barrett at times expressed small amounts of anger at the man for seeming so cold to her. Or, at least, they _had_ shown as much.

Since the Kadaj incident, all had assumed that Cloud would come around and he and Tifa would be together without restrictions. Even Cid, with his brash nature and loud, obnoxious mouth, had come to show more care for Shera. Vincent gave a small, hidden smile at that thought. Finally he looked at Tifa, encouraged by his continuing train of thought to inquire, "Do you feel at peace now?"

**Tifa: **

Her steps were slow and measured, although soft and light, as she made her way back, sitting down beside Vincent once more and gazed at the stars. "I think so," she answered, voice soft and hushed. "I don't want to stay in the past, there's so much suffering and pain. The future, although uncertain, is bright and filled with hope. Just look at Marlene and Denzel," she smiled. "If we don't have hope for _them_, how can we have hope for ourselves?"

It was strange, she thought. Sitting here in this sacred place, sharing her innermost thoughts, hopes and fears with Vincent. Strange, but infinitely comforting at the same time. Tifa looked down at her lap, hands idly plucking at a loose thread.

"I know what you all think," she said suddenly. "About Cloud and me." Tifa took a deep breath, then the words just poured from her in an unstoppable fountain. "When…after the Kadaj incident, things were better. Rufas Shin-ra helped Cloud get the business back off the ground, gave us some really good contacts for long term business. I persuaded him to move into the bar with us; Marlene and Denzel were still sharing the smaller bedroom and…" she blushed hotly but pushed on, "Cloud and I had the other."

Clearing her throat, she went on. "Things were busy; there was plenty of business, thanks to all the construction companies coming into Midgar to rebuild and repair. They always need good couriers. We signed a year long contract with the largest; meant steady work and a constant paycheck, but that's when things started to deteriorate. Cloud kept missing messages, he didn't make the runs in time, he got _lost_ a few trips…and then he just…stopped caring again, I guess. He would always be gone for days at a time; eventually, those turned into weeks."

She paused, took a breath and then sighed. "He stopped sleeping at home. We would only see him when he came to change clothes or get whatever he needed." Tifa lifted her head and stared into nothingness.

"He backslid to where he was before everything happened. We lost the contract; I had to run the bar double shifts to keep money coming in, while keeping everything from the kids. Barrett and the others dropped by every now and then, but no one could stay very long." A slim shoulder shrugged. "They'd ask me how Cloud was and I'd just smile and say 'Fine', when what I really wanted to do was scream and break things." She chuckled sadly.

"I know I used to love him, Vincent. I did. We were the best of friends when we were young. I always knew he'd be there for me. But…" her head lowered again, long locks hiding her face, "…he's not." Her voice fell to a whisper. "And I don't know if I care anymore, Vincent." Tifa's eyes closed.

"How can you love someone so much and they not see it? How can you go from that kind of love to this…_nothing_ I've been feeling…?" Her fist clenched on the blanket. "I don't know what to do anymore…"

**Vincent:**

He let the silence hang in the air for a moment after her quiet torrent of confessions, his eyes tilting their crimson gaze from stars to grass at the wash of familiarity at her words. He'd known, as he had been thinking, that the two of them shared very similar situations. Yet to hear it come from her mouth in such a soft voice that walked a line between despair and apathy, Vincent felt his own ghosts brushing unwanted caresses over his numbed heart. His voice was barely audible when he broke that heavy silence, glancing at her hands as she twisted them in the creases of the blanket, strong fingers worrying at the threads.

"If you ever found real answers to those questions, I would hope you'd share them with me." There was a ring to his tone of admission, sympathy, and regret at the same time, and still a tiny bit of comfort that can only be shared by two people enduring the same type of pain. Before he could think better of it, and Vincent was _still_ choosing careful words, he went on, "Tifa, I know - as everyone in our little group does - that you care for Cloud, and to whatever degree, he does care for you, too. But there is another he cared for, and infatuation always dilutes our better judgment. I am the last man who should offer you advice..."

That was the truest thing he could say. His only relationship, hell, his whole life, had been a train-wreck. Not only had it cost him every trace of the shy-but-friendly person he used to be, his heart, his soul and normality, but it had cost his lover her life and her son even more than that. Ultimately, his inability to do something of worth to stop Hojo had nearly cost the life of the very Planet itself, and all those on it.

All because he loved a woman too much to let her go, and not enough to force her to see what she was doing was wrong. No, he could never give advice to anyone of what they should do, aside from avoid ending up like he had. A look at his friend's face - and he did indeed consider her to be a friend - told him that he could, however, help relieve even a little of her stress.

"If the invitation is still open, and Cloud has indeed put you under such financial and emotional strain... I would stay with you until you get things in order. I am accomplishing little here, anyway." Quiet, smooth, and to the point, true to his very nature. He looked back to the stars, awaiting her answer and wondering why it made him feel anxious.

**Tifa:**

For the first time in a very long time, Tifa couldn't even remember _when_, she was unable to halt the tears that flooded her eyes at Vincent's quiet offer. The honesty, the genuine _caring_ of his voice just washed over her, nearly breaking her down. How long had it been since a tender _friend_ offered her recluse and shelter? She honestly didn't know. All she knew was that she was _tired_ of having to be the backbone of things, to support everything else in her world else it come crashing down in a shattered landscape. She was so weary…what would it hurt to simply lean on another for a while? _Not a thing_.

Almost unconscious of it, she reached out and slipped her arm beneath Vincent's, leaning her forehead to his broad shoulder, eyes closed against the torrent of tears, though a lone sniffle managed to escape. The other hand crept to join as well and Tifa latched to Vincent as if he were the last steady anchor in the world.

"You understand," she managed to whisper. "I can't be Aeris, Vincent. No matter how I might have wished to. Why can't he love me for _me_? Am I so unworthy?" She shook her head, pulling her self-pity aside and replacing it with firm defiance. "No," she said, a bit stronger. "Either he does, or he doesn't. I can care for him, but I can't _freeze_. I have to go on. If he wants to stay in the bog of despair, so be it. I want to be free of it."

Falling silent once more, she just leaned against Vincent, the soft sounds of evening and the slight rasp of crimson fabric tender upon her ears. After a long moment, she replied, "Your invitation is always open, Vincent. Never doubt that, not ever."

**Vincent:**

Valentine fought the urge to go rigid at her touch. Because he sat to her left, she was linked to his flesh and blood arm, and even through fabric, buckles and leather, he could feel warmth in her touch. He did not pull away, only sat there, turning his head to look down at the mane of dark chocolate hair that now rested against his shoulder. He didn't need his unnatural sense of smell or hearing to know she was in tears.

As her words escaped in a rush, then halted and turned to resolve, Vincent found that he felt strangely relieved. Relieved that she could keep her eyes forward and not look back on the pain she dragged with her, so unlike he had been. There were similarities between them, yet profound differences in some aspects. He was almost proud of her, knowing what it must take to be able to think like that, if only for the time being. He did hope it was a permanent change in her. And if his offer had acted as a small tourniquet thus far, he felt a little of his guilt lessen in knowing that - in his pain and experience - he might help someone else overcome what he had not been able. He was silent, with only a nod to her promises.

At her last statement, his arm pulled from her grip to rest almost awkwardly over her shoulders, laying some of that heavy red material over her back as gloved fingers clamped gently on her right shoulder. It lacked the casual, good-hearted warmth of a friend familiar with hugs and other gestures of affection, but the fact that he allowed even this unsure half-embrace surprised even himself, to a degree. He didn't mind.

Tifa was the backbone of their group, the glue that often held everyone together in tough situations and soothed ruffled feathers of egotistical males and females, with a smile that could warm an emotionally frigid room. He'd seen her do it many times during the group's adventures. Now, she need to be held together, by anyone who had the time and understanding. He had both. He replied simply with his eyes gazing into the reflection of the stars on the water's surface, "Then I will go back with you tomorrow."

**Tifa:**

It shocked her as he shifted; immediately she tried to jerk away, afraid she'd overstepped the boundaries. But she eased once again as Vincent draped his arm about her shoulder, the brush of leather to skin strangely chilling. The cool sleekness of his cloak surprised her, however, where it trailed along her arm.

Accepted thus far, Tifa's mind entertained wild ideas of slipping further into the dark embrace, but resolutely threw brakes on her brain. She knew she longed for touch, strong arms in which to get blissfully lost. But her former lover had been abruptly denied her and Tifa was again alone. And this was _Vincent_. It wasn't fair to burden the man with her problems and issues. He had enough of his own to cart around, that she knew. Her heart wrenched at the reminder.

Yet she couldn't help a sudden rush of warmth to him, for his presence, his kind words, his offer, his _understanding_ most of all. She felt like a child, small and afraid. So Tifa couldn't help scooting closer to Vincent, hip nearly touching his as she resettled her temple upon his shoulder. Her gaze followed his, out over the river. Arms crossed over her chest, she sighed softly and said, "Thank you, Vincent. I'd like that. And I know Marlene will be thrilled to see you again."

**Vincent:**

Vincent was glad she seemed to settle into his shoulder more. To him, it felt plain strange to have anyone so close. Strange in a positive way, in this case, but strange nonetheless. He put his claw flat against the ground behind him a few inches to support a little of his weight so that he could shift his posture to lean back some. His other arm he kept around her shoulders, and couldn't help being reminded of nights when he'd had his arm around another beautiful woman. The memory was quickly thrown to the back of his mind.

"It's nothing," he said, his own way of saying that she was welcome. He chuckled very softly, briefly. "Marlene asked me when I would come for a visit. I suppose it _is_ overdue..." The girl had pestered him about it the last two times she'd called him, in her sweet, childish way. He could nearly hear the pout she was wearing when he had just said, "I'll think about it," in the way that she had obviously learned meant, "Probably not but I don't want to be bugged about it anymore."

Vincent _really_ had to wonder how Tifa found the time to raise and school both children, feed who knew how many others, work not one but two shifts at the bar, likely by herself at times, and try to salvage her and Cloud's business while worrying over him. Now that he knew that Cloud had gone off on his own so much, Vincent felt a little badly for not checking on her sooner, and wondered why no one else had noticed how bad things had gotten.

Aside from that, he had missed them, a little. "I think I will enjoy being somewhere different for a while. And something to do."

**Tifa:**

"Yes, it _is_," Tifa seconded firmly, a maternal smile on her face. "I know we'll enjoy having you, Vincent," she assured him. The two companions remained thus for a while, letting the night and its hours pass them by. Tifa eventually fell asleep, pillowed against Vincent's side.

But a buckle became increasingly annoying and she stirred, murmuring quietly and shifted around, curling into a ball on the blanket, head pillowed on her pack. Tucking her feet beneath her, she yawned once and drifted into sleep, secure in the knowledge that Vincent was there and she was safe. One slim hand reached out and fingers curled in the vermillion cape, as if to reassure herself of his presence, even in the landscape of slumber.

**Vincent:**

For the entire night he sat there, unmoving except for the times when he would turn to watch her sleep. He wondered if she often did not sleep well. He never did. Sitting up, he dozed in that cat-like way of his, half in and out of wakefulness while somehow getting just enough rest for his body, if not his mind, which drifted in and out of senseless dreams and haunting memories. It always did this, but tonight the case was milder than most, without the most vivid imagery.

Dawn came, Vincent woke fully, but still remained where he was, silently awaiting the end of Tifa's slumber. The sun rose, sparkling over the water in a cheery display of oranges, pinks and lavenders. The same glow crept towards them, then overtook them. Still, he waited, knowing she needed the sleep.

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** _**Please**_ see the notation in the first chapter.

**Disclaimer: **We, in no way whatsoever, own anything of and pertaining to the _Final Fantasy VII _or _Advent Children_ works; that right belongs to other fortunate souls. We also reap no monetary benefits from this exercise in literary creativity.

_**Chapter Two: **_

**Tifa: **

The alien noise brought Tifa from the sweet vestiges of sleep. Where her mornings were usually filled with bright childish chatter and the familiar city noises, the quiet calling of birds and gentle burble of water were a soothing litany to her ears. So she slipped easily from dreams into the soft morning, opening her eyes and finally remembering where she was. With a gentle yawn and slight stretch, she rose, tilting her head to the side to stretch muscles and emit another yawn.

Shaking her head to clear it, she spied Vincent in the same spot and she smiled. "Good morning, Vincent," she said quietly, one hand gently touching his shoulder. Had he been Cloud or one of the others, she would have kissed his cheek. Tifa relished the nuance of touch and affection; it was part of her maternal makeup. Besides, it was always reassuring. "I know you didn't sleep, so I won't ask," she softly teased with a little giggle. "But I hoped you rested well. Although my snoring must have gotten tiresome."

**Vincent:**

The faint smile her words brought was hidden behind that ever-present cowl, but as he looked at her the corners of his eyes crinkled just a tiny bit to give away what was hidden. "You were less noisy than the crickets. I did rest some, thank you." He didn't tense at her touch this time, though the muscles in his shoulder gave the slightest twitch, much like an animal just shy of being tamed might do.

He stood and stepped off the blanket in case she wanted to go ahead and pack it up, as they should probably leave soon. Vincent then realized that he had no idea how she had gotten there. Obviously she had walked into the forest, but certainly not all the way from Midgar.

"Did you have a means of transportation, or do we have a long way to walk?" he inquired as he pulled the fabric loose from around his head, letting his black satin hair fall in smooth but wild locks until he rearranged them and replaced the red headband.

**Tifa:**

Tifa got to her feet and began to pack up her camp, shaking out the blanket and stowing it in her pack, along with the spare water bottles and breakfast, which she shared. Glancing over her shoulder, she paused in sudden fascination to see Vincent …_preening_, all that hair now streaming down his back in glorious disarray. God, but she envied the man's hair. Would that her own bear resemblance. Usually she just brushed it when she thought about it and forgot it. But, while Vincent seemed to just magically arrange his just so, complete with dark shine and all, for her to acquire such a glorious mane would take _years_ of work and pampering. It was a weakness, for her fingers twitched as she realized what bliss it would be to slip digits into that gleaming mass. Truly, she'd agonized over Cloud's unruly locks for _years_.

Hurriedly tearing her eyes as Vincent finished his minute ablutions, Tifa shouldered her pack and swung her arms a bit, to get the blood flowing and banish the morning's waning chill. "Mr. Oscan, a merchant in town, gave me a ride yesterday. He'll be headed back to Midgar this morning and we can hitch." Tilting her head as she looked at him, Tifa inquired, "Ready, Vincent?"

**Vincent:**

He nodded mutely and followed her as she set off. Everything he owned could be - and always was - carried on his person. The only clothes her owned at the moment were those he was wearing, which he washed whenever he bathed in the river. Well, as much as one could wash leather, by wiping it off and painstakingly cleaning and treating it to be sure it stayed in wearable condition. Thankfully not _all_ of his garments were such. He realized, as they walked at a brisk pace, that he would have to buy more clothes if he were to live with Tifa and the two children. It simply wouldn't do to walk around the house naked while he did his laundry.

Within a couple of hours, they had walked to the road where the merchant had dropped Tifa off, and thankfully only had to wait for little more than half an hour. For nearly the whole four hours it took to drive back to Midgar, Mr. Oscan and Tifa chatted about this or that while Vincent offered only a quiet comment here or there. Though he only spoke directly to Vincent a few times, the merchant didn't seem overly put-off by Valentine's dour personality and dark appearance. After all, the man _had_ helped save the world, even if he and the others were lesser known than Cloud.

The towering buildings of Midgar loomed in the distance more than half an hour before they actually reached the city, and once they stepped out of the truck to say their thanks and be on their way, Vincent sighed softly at the feeling of stretching his legs again and recalled why he had left the city in the first place. So much noise... yet at least now he had a reason to be here.

**Tifa:**

The thought "good to be home" didn't enter Tifa's mind, for she really wasn't looking forward to returning to her life, although things would most certainly be easier, with Vincent there to help. That thought was comforting. Grim and dour the man might be, but he'd proved time and time again to be a genuine trustworthy companion. The walk into Midgar passed quickly; company always went faster and while she debated swinging by and picking up the children, Tifa realized it might be better to let Vincent get settled first.

Upon arriving home, she inhaled deeply the familiar scent of home and was grateful. "Come in," she invited cordially, tossing her pack down on a nearby table. "Marlene and Denzel are next door, I thought it might be better to get everything in order before bringing them home." Heading upstairs, she told him, "Let me put fresh sheets on the bed, Vincent, then you can have the extra room. It's clean and faces away from the street, so it's not as noisy as the rest of the house. Save during bar hours, that is," she finished with a grin, opening the specified bedroom door and setting about her chores.

She stripped the bed, needless since the sheets were clean, but good hostess she was, she replaced them with fresh linens and opened the window to let the room air a bit. Hastily checking to make sure everything else was in order, she hummed a bit as she fetched spare towels and cloths from the hall closet and placed them atop the dresser for his later use.

Reemerging into the small hallway, she spied him and gave a fond smile, indulging her earlier inclination and giving the man a swift but tender hug, her cheek pressed to his shoulder. "I'm glad you came, Vincent. Really," she breathed before releasing him to head downstairs, calling, "Make yourself comfortable. I'll be back in a few minutes with the kids."

**Vincent:**

He waited patiently in the hallway as she unnecessarily re-made the bed. After sleeping in a coffin for thirty years, then mostly on the ground for months, any bed was welcomed, whether or not the sheets smelled just-out-of-the-dryer fresh. When she emerged and hugged him, he absolutely froze. The softness of her cheek brushed his, and he was thankful for the high collar that hid his open mouth. He managed to murmur, "Alright..." just as she walked downstairs, leaving him standing there feeling hopelessly inept at how he would handle living with her, not to mention the children.

With a sigh he walked into the room and divested of his cloak, hanging it and his gunbelt on a cornerpost of the bed. He sat on the fresh, crisp linens and thought for a moment. What would he do to help her? Obviously he wasn't skilled at anything in the bar, but he had many other uses. He considered picking up what Cloud had left behind in the courier business, or perhaps he could round up some of the wanted criminals that Shin-Ra had numerous posters on. Somehow he didn't feel quite at ease doing anything for them, even knowing how the corporation had seemingly changed for the better. Anything that would take him away for long periods was out of the question, since Tifa seemed to need the company at home as much as she needed a better financial situation.

He decided at last to ask her what she felt more comfortable with, and see where that went. He was in the same spot when Marlene, followed closely by Denzel, ran up the stairs and all but tumbled into his lap with a squeal. "Vincent!" The tumble-ee appraised the tumble-er with a blink and a quiet response, "I'm glad to see you too, Marlene. And you, Denzel," he added with a nod to the youth standing a couple of feet away, smiling at him. Denzel reminded him a little of himself as a child, shy and a little awkward, but friendly.

**Tifa:**

Marlene nearly bounced on Vincent's knee; Tifa had told them there was a surprise waiting at home, but the little girl never expected to find her bestest friend in the world! It was a good surprise! Denzel, while not as exuberant as Marlene, shifted from one foot to the other, obviously excited and bright-eyed. Marlene jumped from Vincent's lap and pulled on his hand.

"Come on!" she urged. "You have to come see our new playhouse! Me, Tifa and Denzel made it! Tifa said when summer comes, we might even be able to _camp_ inside!" she burbled, obviously proud of their playthings. "Vincent," she pouted when he didn't immediately rise, "come on!"

From the doorway, Tifa peeked in and instantly melted to see the children so enamored of him. As generous as his offer had been, she wondered if he'd known what he was getting into. Before things got _too_ out of hand, she emerged around the doorway and said, "A quick look, Marlene. You and Denzel still have homework to finish, remember?"

The little girl pouted but Tifa was adamant. "When you get back in, we can have lunch and then its school, all right?" Both children scuffled but didn't argue further. Tifa returned downstairs and busied herself with the mentioned task of making sandwiches.

**Vincent:**

He finally rose and allowed her to tug him down the stairs, red eyes a bit wide and obviously unprepared as the normally graceful man clogged down the stairs two at a time to keep up with her pace while bent forward as she maintained a grip on his hand. Denzel ran ahead of Marlene a bit and the two ushered him out the back door once downstairs.

There, in the small backyard nearly overgrown with weeds and dotted here and there with dandelions and other hardy wildflowers, stood a ramshackle little playhouse thrown together with pieces of tin, plywood and other various materials, all of which scrounged from the wreckage of the city, he guessed. Building materials were very expensive, given the recent demand for them.

Without his cloak to hide behind, the children seemed endlessly amused at his lost expressions as they pushed the tall ex-Turk into the house and showed him every mundane detail, that to a child was infinitely important. "Sit down!" Marlene insisted as Denzel pulled three folding chairs from a corner for them. Vincent did as told, listening as the children began to tell him all the interesting things going on while he had been gone. He supposed Marlene had forgotten that she had already relayed the news over the phone.

"Dad found _another_ new oil field! It's not as big as the last one but they did a story on it in the newspaper! Front page!" Marlene said, rattling out bits of the other former AVALANCHE members' adventures. Vincent actually smiled minutely to her, which cause her to giggle and go on with renewed exuberance.

When she had finally finished the update, there was a moment of quiet that passed, a small relief for Vincent as he looked around at the various drawings on the walls. Denzel, with an unsure expression that bordered hope, broke the silence and asked, "Vincent? Have you seen Cloud lately?"

The stoic man withheld his sigh. The children, especially Denzel, worshipped Cloud. He was everyone's hero. Denzel emulated his every move and the way Cloud spoke. Should he tell them the truth? Or would it be easier for them if he lied? _No_, he decided, _they will encounter enough lies in this world_.

"He was at the City of Ancients a few days ago. He didn't stay long; I believe he may have had business to attend to. He seemed alright, though." Both sets of small shoulders slumped a little, though the two children wore small smiles to cover a little of the disappointment. Perhaps they'd been hoping he would tell them that yes, he saw Cloud and Cloud had said he'd be home soon. Denzel confirmed this, "Do you think he'll be home again soon? He's always away now..."

The disappointment showed through a bit more in his downcast eyes. Vincent managed the barest smile and knew he was almost lying, "Maybe he will. Now, I believe Tifa said you two have work to finish..." Twin moans of complaint sounded, but they didn't resist as he stood and gestured for them to exit the play-house. Once inside, they bounded into the kitchen, where he quietly followed.

**Tifa:**

Tifa moved with graceful ease through her kitchen, automatically fixing sandwiches and fruit juice for everyone. Routine was nice; it eased her mind and soothed her nerves. She set the plates down at the bar; the kids usually liked the higher stools better. Belatedly she realized she'd fixed Vincent a plate as well. She chuckled quietly. Well, neither of them had eaten much breakfast; likely he would be hungry as well.

She'd just finished setting down glasses when the troupe reentered the kitchen, Marlene and Denzel clambering up immediately. "Wash hands first," Tifa instructed and obediently the two did so, not quite pushing and shoving on the way to the bathroom. Tifa dried her hands on a towel, watching them go, then turned to Vincent.

"Sorry," she apologized. "They're just really excited to see you," she said with a smile. "Here, lunch." She indicated the other piled plate beside Marlene's. "Neither of us had much for breakfast. But if you're not hungry, it's okay."

Turning away before he could acquiesce or deny, she fell to slicing apples for the kids; Denzel especially loved the crisp fruit. Carrot sticks for Marlene and herself; she bustled about, her quick movements serving well in this arena of domesticity.

**Vincent:**

Vincent looked at the plate and nodded to her, "Thank you. I am a little hungry." Very little, but he didn't want to let the food go to waste after she'd taken the time and effort to prepare it.

When the children were done with washing their hands and had plopped down onto the bar stools, Vincent walked to the bathroom and washed his own hands. Or rather, washed his human hand after removing the glove, and his claw, which thankfully was water-proof. He had learned not to be nearly as self conscious of it as he had been when the group found him in his coffin. Tifa didn't seem put off by it in the least, and Denzel and Marlene seemed fascinated, if anything.

He returned to the bar and sat down, quietly enjoying the simple meal as the other three talked, and speaking mainly when spoken to. As amazing to behold as he was in a fight, and as skilled with a gun, his conversational skills had always been lacking.

**Tifa:**

After lunch, Tifa sat down with the kids and the three managed to get homework done. Then playtime while Tifa readied everything for the night's business. Dezra and Rolfe arrived for work, Rolfe heating up the bar's kitchen and Dezra readying tables while Tifa moved quickly and steadily, making sure everything was in order. She then herded the children upstairs for baths and pajamas, finally relenting to let them stay up a bit and "play" with Vincent. Although the look on the former Turk's face mirrored the confusion Tifa knew he felt at _that_ prospect.

But she left them in Vincent's room, Marlene bouncing on her knees atop the pillow and Denzel sprawled on his stomach, gesturing animatedly to Vincent about his latest obsession, monster game cards. The little boy was filling the dark man in on all the stats, characteristics and ways of playing, making sure Vincent understood completely. Yet as much as she would have liked to remain and visit as well, the bustle arriving downstairs signaled the night had begun. At least, for her.

So she steeled herself for another busy night and headed down to the main floor, greeting guests and taking orders as she went, once more falling into the familiar routine. Seven hours later, having been unable to pause once the entire night, Tifa finally fell into a chair after the last customer exited and Dezra locked the doors. "Long night, huh, Tifa?" the little blonde girl asked, wiping down tables for the last time.

Too weary to answer, Tifa just nodded. Rolfe was cleaning in the kitchen, so she figured she better help Dezra out here and then get everything else settled The clock read two in the morning by the time both workers finally bid her goodnight and headed to their respective homes. Tifa was dead on her feet, but the night had been good. Dezra was an excellent waitress and earned much in tips, as did her boss. Tifa deposited the cash box in the upstairs office and staggered out into the hall, too tired to bother with a shower, though the hot water would feel _blissful_.

Out of sheer habit, she peeked in the kids' room, seeing both children snug under their covers. She smiled, silently thanking Vincent for putting them to bed earlier. Though she'd not been able to do so, it was great to have him here, if just for their sake. She turned off the small hall light and suddenly groaned, remembering she needed to leave her note for the grocer who stopped by early every morning.

Toddling back downstairs, she took a seat at the bar and began to write, but tiredness won and her head lowered to rest upon an outstretched arm and before she could gainsay it, she slipped into sleep.

**Vincent:**

Vincent could only stare hopelessly at Tifa as she left him purely at the mercy and whims of the kids. He felt terribly out of place playing the baby-sitter, but by the third round of the monster card game, he didn't mind as much. It wasn't a hard game to pick up, but naturally since Denzel enjoyed it so much and had been playing for a while, he won, even beating Marlene, who rolled her eyes and huffed at how it was a silly game anyway.

Between the games, the stories, the requests for stories, and all the talk in between, it was almost eleven o'clock when he finally told them that it was past their bed-time. Gently but sternly, he ushered them out of his room and into theirs, where Marlene gave him a tight hug goodnight. She had clamped onto his neck tight enough to cause him to cough, and said, "I'm glad you're gonna be staying here, Vincent. You're a lot of fun to be around."

Well, that had been the last thing he'd expected to hear. He bade them goodnight with another hint of a smile and went to his bedroom to retrieve the towel and wash-cloth Tifa had lain out for him, then went to the bathroom across the hall to shower.

The hot water felt better than he could recall, and he let the steaming rivulets run down his pale skin until it pinked from the heat of the water. He washed his hair, somewhat disheartened that the only shampoo and conditioner available were plumeria scented, and toweled off before slipping his pants on and going back to his room, the towel around his shoulders under his mane of damp hair and his shirt and headband carried over his claw. He really would have to buy more clothes, probably the next day. He closed the door behind him and flopped onto the bed, sighing heavily. He hadn't realized how tired he was until now.

Without even bothering to crawl beneath the covers, Vincent's eyelids drooped and he slipped into sleep, deeper than the cat-naps of the previous night and day. One of the dreams came back.

_He ran toward the lab with the deepest sense of dread._ _Fluorescent lights buzzed quietly as he passed them, his legs, though faster than most, unable to carry him quite fast enough. _Dark lashes fluttered against pale cheeks and his breathing shallowed. _He flung the door open to find that ... _thing_ standing before a series of vials and instruments. That evil, loathsome bastard. The husband of the woman he loved. Accusations were thrown, heated words exchanged. The scientist pulled something from under his coat, the dull, false light of the room glinted off steel. _

His brows drew together in anticipation of the pain. _Shots echoed. Was it two or three? He could barely tell after the first time. He fell, cursing and knowing he was going to die. Knowing he was going to fail. _His human hand fisted in the sheet, while his claw slid metal fingers against one another in a quiet screech. _She could die because of him. Because she refused him and married a monster. Because he couldn't convince her otherwise. Had he not loved her enough? Not given her enough?_

Sweat beaded on his forehead as his mouth opened in a pained whisper. _She found him, her belly swollen with child. And she screamed, the last sound he could recall hearing. And inside, he screamed back for her_.

_"Lucrecia...!"_ He bolted awake, panting. He looked at the clock. Three-thirty A.M. It wasn't the most graphic of his nightmares, but one of the most painful. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and pulled his shirt on. There'd be no more rest tonight.

Needing something - anything - to drink, he trudged down the hall, down the stairs and into the bar area... where he found Tifa laying in what must have been an uncomfortable position. Taking a breath to chase the rest of the nightmare away, he walked over and touched her shoulder. "Tifa..."

**Tifa:**

Her dreams were fuzzy, unclear. But she trudged through them nonetheless, having no other choice. Memories abounded, making her heart ache with their intensity. She came awake at the touch upon her shoulder, opening glazed brown eyes to see Vincent hovering over her.

"Vincent?" she murmured. "What is it?" Straightening, she glanced down at the list, wondering if she'd finished it, but suddenly not caring. She pushed the paper away, turning back to Vincent, her brow furrowing at the pale expression on his face. All right, paler than usual. His deep scarlet eyes were haunted, the pupils wide and dilated.

Tifa immediately stood up, placing a worried hand on his forearm, fingers gripping a bit. "Vincent," she said, a bit worried, "what's the matter? What is it?" She'd never seen him like this, nearly shaken and almost unsteady. Her brown eyes instinctively darted around the place, seeking anything out of the ordinary. But nothing was amiss.

Without taking her hand from him, she went around the bar, taking him with her and finally released him to take out a tumbler and ice and pour a generous shot of whiskey, the dark amber liquid among the house's best. "Here," she offered, holding the glass for him.

Tifa didn't know what was troubling him, but a good dollop of Scotch could certainly help cure it.

**Vincent:**

Was it _that_ obvious? Valentine almost wished that he had donned his cloak to help cover it, but Tifa was likely perceptive enough to detect his unease leftover from the nightmare anyway. He knew that perception was how she kept the group together, with the ability to see trouble or pain building up before it had the chance to explode. She seemed successful with everyone, all but Cloud, though she likely had helped him the most.

He opened his mouth to explain but her gentle tug on his arm made him close it as he watched her pour him a drink. He must have looked like Hell if she went straight for the liquor. He sighed his admission as he took the glass from her, "Thank you. That's actually what I came down here for. It wasn't my intent to disturb or upset you... it just seemed like you should be sleeping in your bed rather than at the bar."

It was fully his intent to work around telling her the complete truth. Best to keep such pain to one's self, he told himself. Vincent swirled the contents of the glass a few times, letting the ice clink inside its small amber sea. He took a decent gulp of it and closed his eyes at the bitter-sweet burn, momentarily bringing back memories of a different time and different drinking companions.

Without the red fabric to hold back some of his hair, it fell into his face a little more than usual, palpable darkness against ivory skin, thus he swept it back with his claw, still cradling his drink in the other hand. He looked at her with some concern of his own, though much more subtle than what her empathic eyes conveyed. Though still beautiful, she looked completely drained. "You must be very tired. Busy night?"

**Tifa:**

"You didn't disturb me, Vincent," she reassured him with a soft smile, watching him toy aimlessly with the glass. A quiet sigh. "Bed. Yeah, sounds _really_ good. Just wish I had the luxury of a sixteen hour nap." While not really liking the bitter taste of the alcohol, she retrieved a tumbler for herself and took a generous shot, grimacing a bit at the sharp burn as the smooth stuff slid down her throat. One was enough.

Tifa pushed the glass away, turning back to her houseguest. It took her a moment to realize he didn't _look_ the same; without his trademark vermillion cloak and head dressing, he looked quite different. And a hot shower cleaned him up fairly well, she realized belatedly.

While her own skin held a healthy warm tan, Vincent was ghostly pale, pure ivory skin against the drowning onyx of that glorious mane. Watching him irritably brush back the rebellious strands reminded her of her own scraggled locks, a few traitorous ends escaping the practical knot she usually afforded, curled at the nape of her neck. Although her hair had grown, mostly since she never had time to take care of it or get a trim, hers would never have the lustrous shine of Vincent's envious tresses. _Gaia_, but the man was attractive, she blinked. Even sitting there looking as forlorn as a child whose puppy had run away.

Dimly she realized he'd said something. Huh? "Tired?" she echoed stupidly, blinking blearily at him. "Mm, yeah. _Heaven_," short for _Seventh Heaven_, the bar's title, "is always busy nowadays. This isn't really considered the 'rough' part of town anymore. More jobs, with all the rebuilding, so folks are actually thriving." She shrugged a bar shoulder, the dark fabric of the soft, practical shirt rustling quietly.

Tifa preferred comfortable shoes, pants and shirt when waiting tables, comfortable but feminine enough to look nice and pleasant. She'd set aside her leathers in lieu of soft cotton and svelte, usually in muted colors and tones. She yawned. "Sorry, just can't seem to keep my face closed. Dezra's a huge help, but I could stand to have at least two more to keep down the bustle." She gestured at his glass. "Want some more?"

**Vincent:**

While she spoke, he emptied the liquid from his glass, leaving only the lonely ice as he set it on the bar. "It's ok. It's been a long day. Tomorrow we can talk about how I am to help around here, then when things become easier for you financially, you can hire more help."

To her offer he nodded, "Just one more glass, thank you." He paused long enough for her to pour the drink, his eyes settled on the glass and silently thankful she didn't press him on what was wrong. Once she was finished, he set those ruby orbs upon her.

"You should go to bed, Tifa. I'm sure whatever you were doing can wait until later." His expression was a serious as if he were telling a heart patient to quit smoking, though it was only a small change from how he always looked.

**Tifa:**

Putting the bottle away after she refilled his glass, Tifa straightened and brushed a hand across her brow with a sigh, eyes abstracted. "I know I should, Vincent. But there's still so much that I need to do." One long finger tapped the paper list. "I was trying to remember what I needed to have the grocer leave when he comes in the morning. I wrote it down as I went tonight, but can't find the original list." She growled a bit, under her breath. "Probably got tossed with the rest of the stuff." A small moue creased her lips. "Oh, well."

Picking up the pen again, she started to scribble but sighed and dropped it. "You're right. I'm so tired I can't even see straight." Indeed, her vision was starting to strangely double a bit. She'd been on her feet nearly sixteen hours; the adrenaline had worn off around closing time.

Leaving the list, knowing she was going to regret not finishing it, she moved past Vincent, pausing in her exhausted wobble to rise on her toes and give him a maternal kiss on the cheek, followed by a sleepy, friendly smile, then somehow managed to climb the stairs one more time and disappear into her room for the remainder of the night.

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** **_Please_** see the notation in the first chapter.

**Disclaimer: **We, in no way whatsoever, own anything of and pertaining to the _Final Fantasy VII _or _Advent Children_ works; that right belongs to other fortunate souls. We also reap no monetary benefits from this exercise in literary creativity.

_**Chapter Three: **_

**Vincent:**

He was glad he wouldn't have to pressure her further. A list? Well, it was important, but not more so than her getting enough sleep to function the next day. Besides, he might as well begin helping tonight, whether she asked or not.

The peck on the cheek, though light and motherly, caused a small flush in his cheeks that he hoped she was too tired to noticed. Vincent was fairly certain he projected the aura of someone who was not to be given a kiss goodnight on the cheek, and yet again Tifa had sidestepped all the walls that stopped others from coming within a two-foot physical radius of him. He didn't realize that, belatedly, he returned her smile with a small one of his own, until he heard her bedroom door close.

His stare returned to his drink, where it remained for a long moment of contemplation. He felt accepted here, something he hadn't truly felt in a very, very long time. He emptied the glass in one long gulp this time, not caring to really savor it or the thoughts it brought, then he stood and went about washing it and putting it away.

Then he got to the real task; looking for that list. He looked on every counter, in the kitchen, even the cupboards and tables. Then he combed the floor, still with no trace of the scrap of paper Tifa had written everything down on. All this the former Turk did in near complete silence, as befitting of his very nature.

Without really thinking, his hand and claw never let a door slam shut, never set anything down with more than the barest of sounds. Yuffie used to comment that it was creepy, how silent he was. The fact that she had so much martial arts training, was a self proclaimed ninja, made him smirk. Perhaps she should have taken notes. The trash had, unfortunately, already been emptied.

So Vincent simply picked up the pad and pen she'd been scribbling on and looked through the ledger he'd found of past purchases, wrote down everything that was frequently needed, and looked through the cabinets themselves.

By five A.M, he had added everything onto her list that was low or out entirely. Since he was unsure of where to leave it, and since he _knew_ he couldn't go back to sleep, Vincent sat up at the bar and waited. About forty-five minutes later, he heard a large truck pull up and park outside.

When he answered the door, the man seemed a little inquisitive on who he was. Vincent told him that he was a friend of Tifa's who was visiting for a while. The man gave him a smirk and a cocked brow that said simply, "Yeah, right."

The ex-Turk's lack of response cut the amusement short, and the order was filled shortly and the grocer left. Vincent sorted everything and put it away in what seemed to be the proper places, all with the efficient, quick, and silent grace that now came so naturally to him. By the time he plopped back into a bar stool, now a bit tired, it was nearly seven.

**Tifa:**

Tifa woke up with eyes staring at her. Smothering a scream, she jerked and nearly smacked Marlene with a pillow, the little girl's face a bare three inches from her own. Taking deep breaths to calm her racing heart, Tifa sat up and rubbed her eyes, finally noting the bright flood of sunlight behind her drawn curtains.

Marlene, still in pajamas, climbed into bed with her and plopped down atop Tifa's pillow. "'s time for breakfast, Tifa," the little girl yawned, rubbing at her own eyes with a fist. Tifa groaned and flopped back down.

"Nmmhn, not now, Marlene," she groaned, one arm flung across her eyes. Blearily, she turned and opened one eye to stare at the clock. Seven thirty. Well, later than she usually slept. But her body ached; she felt as if she'd been flung about on the Highwind during one of Cid's drunken cavorts. Godlings. But Marlene whined and Tifa finally gave up.

Throwing off the covers, she rose and padded downstairs, not bothering with shoes or pants; her nightshirt nearly reached her knees. Running hands through her mussed hair, she raked it out of her eyes and went into the kitchen, rummaged through the cabinets and blinked as she spied items that had not been in residence a few hours before. The examination of the refrigerator proved the same. She was a bit confused as she came to realize her kitchen and pantry had just seemingly materialized groceries from the very air and frowned harder. But she deemed it a question for later; her stomach was growling, reminding her she'd missed dinner last night.

So, she went about the morning's chores of feeding all beneath the roof. As the last of the toast was browning, she emerged from the kitchen into the main room and paused, spying Vincent still seated at the bar, gazing out into nothingness. _Oh, yes, now it makes sense._

A small crooked smile on her lips, she greeted softly, "Good morning, Vincent." Tifa cleared her throat and approached the ex-Turk. "Would you like some coffee? And breakfast?" Behind the bar, she leaned on the counter beside him. "I see the grocer made a stop. Although it just amazes me how _perfect_ I found everything." 

**Vincent:**

Vincent gave a soft grunt of affirmation rather than an actual yes or no. There were some days, much like this morning, when he wished that a normal night's sleep was possible. His body didn't need it the way most other people did, but he did want _some_ sort of rest. Breakfast and coffee sounded very good at the moment... especially the coffee. He looked at her with a ghost of a tired smile, one corner of his lips turned up marginally.

"I tried to find that list you made, but I think you were right about it being thrown out. I hope I got most of it correct. Organization wasn't difficult once he'd filled the order," he told her, all quietly matter-of-fact. The haunted look from the night before had been replaced with mild fatigue in his eyes, and he leaned back to stretch on the stool, once again arranging his hair.

With a sigh that almost broke into a yawn until he bit his lip to stop it, he resolved that caffeine did indeed sound very good right now. He cleared his throat softly, "Yes, I think coffee would be a good idea."

**Tifa:**

Tifa's heart warmed to his efforts. "Yes," she assured him, "you're pretty perceptive, Valentine. Maybe I should put you to work here, balancing books and organizing this mess." She smiled at him as she straightened. But she noted the tiredness that lined his face and she told him gently, "Why don't you go back to bed, Vincent. I'll keep the kids quiet so you can sleep. Actually, I need to take them for new shoes and new summer clothes, so you should be able to get some decent rest. But have coffee first, it's done brewing."

Stepping back to the kitchen for a quick cup, she also brought sugar and cream so he could fix it as he liked. "Here," she said, sitting everything in easy reach. Marlene appeared downstairs just then, followed by a yawning Denzel.

Both children greeted Vincent with a bright good morning, Marlene even clambering up in his lap and plunking down atop his knee, leaning against his chest; Denzel quietly slipped onto the stool beside him. Tifa, just emerging from the kitchen with plates and bowls, spied the three and her heart constricted with a fondness unlike any she'd felt before. Both children, around whom her world revolved, were completely comfortable with Vincent Valentine, even happy. And he'd only been here a day.

A flash of hot resentment bubbled at Cloud; it would have been so easy for him to do this, to be the steady father figure both needed, but he'd thought only of his own pain, his own wounds. Tifa shook her head and proceeded to serve breakfast; pancakes for Denzel, toast and eggs for Marlene and a smattering of everything, including toast, bacon and groats for Vincent to choose. And of course, the pot of hot coffee.

Taking a small piece of toast for herself, Tifa just leaned elbows on the bar counter and watched the others, making sure _some_ of the food ended up in hungry tummys. Ironically enough, the kids were quiet in the morning, not overly rowdy or rambunctious. They talked to and around Vincent as they ate, Marlene still perched on his left knee.

**Vincent:**

It seemed contradictory to drink coffee, then go to bed, though Vincent knew of a couple of their companions that had that habit. Having begun to get accustomed to being practically piled onto by the children from the night before, he only scooted back on his stool as Marlene climbed up, making room for her skinny legs to swing a bit as she ate. He set his plate slightly to his right, eating around her. He ate a little of everything, nodding and making short replies to Marlene and Denzel.

He watched Tifa finished her toast and when she didn't grab anything else, he raised one brow, telling her with only a pointed look over his coffee mug that she should eat more. He said nothing of it aloud, though. "Actually... if you don't mind I would like to accompany you. For a while, at least. There are some things I need to purchase as well," he spoke after finishing his cup, beginning to pour himself another from the pot which, thankfully, was within reach. She truly was a great hostess.

The things he needed were mostly clothes. Not many, just a couple of alternate outfits to change into when he needed to do his laundry. He didn't shop often, for anything. In fact, the last thing he'd bought - aside from his new gun and the upgrades for it - was his cell phone. And that hadn't been a particularly enjoyable shopping experience. Perhaps with others around, it wouldn't be so bad.

Marlene seemed excited enough at the prospect, "Yeah! You can come and help us pick stuff out and we can help you! Would you _pleeeeeeeease_ tell Tifa that I'm big enough to get my ears pierced?"

Vincent only gave her the same look he gave Tifa about eating only toast. "You do seem to be a little young to go putting holes in your ears. What does your father say?" Barret was only her father by adoption, but aside from Tifa's opinions on any matter, he laid down fairly strict rules for the girl. Mainly, anything that made her seem like she was growing up was a no-no.

This was confirmed in her pout and sigh combination, "Nooooo..." she dragged out in a low whine.

**Tifa:**

Tifa just wasn't hungry this morning. She caught and correctly interpreted Vincent's glance, but shook her head with a slight smile, straightening and moving to busy herself with mundane arranging while her charges ate.

At Vincent's quiet request, Tifa turned, a brow lifting in query, but was cut off from answering by the children's excited prattle. She stifled a giggle at Marlene's renewed begging of earrings and replied after the whine faded away, "Of course, Vincent. The marketplace isn't that far; we can walk there. Denzel, plate to the kitchen, sweetheart," she instructed the boy gently as he quietly slipped from his stool. He obediently took his dishes and pattered into the kitchen, placing them appropriately in the sink then skipped back out and headed upstairs.

Marlene swallowed the last of her toast, slurped the dregs of juice and followed suit, having to stretch to reach her plate, but carried it and her glass into the kitchen. She emerged and put her arms around Tifa's waist, giving a childish spontaneous embrace before clambering after Denzel. Tifa chuckled and turned back to Vincent. "Let me get a shower and the kids dressed, and we can go."

Leaving him to finish eating in peace and quiet, Tifa ascended the stairs and proceeded the usual campaigning of day clothes for both Marlene and Denzel. But negotiations were short and after seeing both children dressed sensibly and in the process of putting on socks and shoes, she went into her room for clean clothes and her own ablutions. Standing under the deliciously hot water, she sighed softly and closed her eyes, feeling a bit of the peace from yestereve return. Such a burden was lifted from her shoulders, she realized.

Odd as it might be, she no longer had to agonize about keeping the children occupied and happy. In just a short time, not even a full day cycle, Vincent had seemed willing to play the baby-sitter. It seemed unfair to resign him to just _that_ fate, she thought, biting at her lip, but she couldn't pretend she wasn't thankful for it. He'd mentioned discussing possible vocations while he was in residence, but Tifa had been so busy and frazzled lately, she wasn't really familiar with what was available. In all honesty, the bar made good money. It was just the problem of keeping it running smoothly. _That_ was where she devoutly wished she could be twins. Have one of her do the books, while the other played hostess and waitress and server and bartender. Good God. Hn, they'd have to discuss it.

But for now, she finished her shower with alacrity and dressed quickly, opting for soft white leggings and a pale blue shirt. Drying her hair, she expertly pulled it into its usual coil at the nape of her neck (from which it would messily escape) and stepped into her shoes. Now, to round up the children and begin the day.

**Vincent:**

He simply nodded to her words and finished everything on his plate once she and the children went upstairs. He put his plate and glass in the sink with the others, and went upstairs to retrieve the trademark head-scarf and cloak he usually wore. He stopped to look at his reflection in the mirror and sighed softly. His hair was a mess... well, even _more_ than usual. He ran his fingers through it quickly, easily combing out most of the small tangles while foregoing using the small brush kept in one of many pockets on his gun-belt. The thick folds of the red head-band were then arranged to hold some of that mane back again, then Vincent donned his gloves, gun-belt - can't be too careful - and lastly his cloak. He felt more secure, properly attired as usual in a way that generally hid most of him.

He returned to the downstairs area to find Tifa, Denzel and Marlene already there, the kids chatting excitedly about something they had seen and wanted to buy. Marlene ran to him and grabbed his hand, tugging him quickly over to the door. "Ready to go?" she asked with a grin.

Vincent was mildly glad that none of the other AVALANCHE members were around to see him being pulled to and fro by the child. He would hear no end of it from Barret and Cid, otherwise. To the question, he nodded. "I am," he looked to Tifa and the smile she wore, "Shall we go then?"  
**  
Tifa:**

They looked up as Vincent descended the stair, Marlene immediately bouncing to the ex-Turk and latching hold of his hand. Tifa tried to hide her grin, but failed as Vincent turned to them. "Yes," she answered, taking Denzel's hand and opening the front door. "Let's go."

Ushering everyone out, she locked the doors securely and the quartet made their way through the streets to Midgar's still booming marketplace. Countless shops and stalls lined the bazaar, merchants called out to passers-by.

With the children between them, Tifa blinked as she realized how much like a _family_ they looked. _Family_, the thought nearly brought her to tears. How she'd missed it… But she was resolute to let nothing ruin the day.

Pausing, she asked Vincent, "What did you need shopping wise? The kids need a few outfits, but we've got plenty of time," she reassured him with a happy smile. Marlene piped up. "Can we go to the park later, Tifa?" Denzel echoed heartily.

Tifa held up a hand. "Calm down, you two. We have shopping do to first, but how about we get hot dogs and have a picnic in the park. That sound fun?" Radiant smiles rewarded her offer. "All right, but no whining or we'll have to go home, okay?" Small heads nodded. 

**Vincent:**

Still holding Marlene's hand - and letting her swing his back and forth as they walked - Vincent answered Tifa's query, "Just clothes. Something a little more..." He cast a down glance at himself and finished in a slightly flat tone, "Sensible." He blinked at the prospect of a picnic in the park later. The idea made him feel rather out of place, but he guessed that he could go along, given the situation as of late and how the children missed having Cloud around.

"Oh! We could get ice cream!" Marlene squealed, looking up to Tifa, then Vincent, "Or cotton candy! Or..." She prattled on, and the normally enigmatic man cast Tifa a subtle, wry look, the smirk hidden behind his high collar but given away by the slight crinkle at the edge of his eyes.

After only a day with them, he marveled at how in the world she could keep the kids entertained, schooled, fed and clothed, _and_ run a business almost alone. He would have buckled under the pressure and crawled back into his coffin, if he were in her shoes instead.

As they passed more shops, Vincent glanced at the merchandise and elaborated a little on his needs, "I require only a couple of outfits, and perhaps another pair of shoes. Just something basic. I had thought of looking around while you and the children buy the things you need..." He looked down at the new attachment on his arm, who only grinned back.

He chuckled quietly, "... but I don't think that's an option. I'm fine with shopping for what I need after you are all finished. Whatever is easier." Marlene continued to swing his arm back and forth, back and forth.

**Tifa:**

Tifa, managing to tune out Marlene's excited prattle, smiled and nodded at Vincent, replying, "I see. Well, I know just the place. Come on, we'll get you done first, then see to clothes for these rugrats."

Ignoring the childish protestations of, "No, we're not!" and "Nu-uh!", Tifa herded everyone down the street and left at the block, finally arriving at a rather "sensible" department store which sold decently-priced, wearable clothes for all ages, even carrying articles in Marlene's size. The place was cheery and well-lit without being gaudy. Customers strolled the place; the atmosphere was comfortable and quiet, despite the influx of people. Tifa sighed satisfactorily. "Here we are. Vincent," she said, gesturing to the right, "you'll find what you need over there."

She took both children's hands. "As for us, we're going to go and try on clothes." Kid-sized groans accompanied this. Both children _hated_ clothes shopping, but the promise of later treats still held sway. Tifa flashed a smile at the former Turk and resolutely shepherded Marlene and Denzel off.

"We'll be done soon!" Inwardly, she realized that the man shouldn't be plagued by overexcited adolescents and do his shopping in his usual quiet demeanor. She could at least cut him that much of a break. 

**Vincent:**

As Tifa shepherded the kids to the appropriate department, Vincent wandered into the men's department and glanced through the clothing. He avoided almost every rack that wasn't monochrome. A display of shirts caught his attention, and he picked out a couple to try on, both in black. His taste in clothing - other than the broody, dark look he was wearing now - conformed mostly to that which he wore during his days as a Turk, both on duty and off. Casual wear was comfortable, but if he had to, Vincent knew how to dress it up, and fairly well. A rather sloppy Turk who could take some advice on that matter came to mind.

He browsed more, picked out four more shirts to try on, and an equal number of pants. With a small sigh he carried them to the fitting room area, checked the items with an old lady at the counter who noted each piece, then went into a stall and began the process of undressing and re-dressing several times over. It was time like this that he hated wearing something with so many buckles, zippers and straps, not to mention so many layers. To his surprise, he liked most of his choices more than he would have guessed.

Quickly deciding what did and did not look right, Vincent donned his usual garb once more and exited the stall, allowing the sales lady to take from him and re-stock that which he didn't want to buy. With five shirts and three pairs of pants, all but two items being black, he quickly added socks and under-shirts in both white and black, then took his purchases to the counter.

The woman there smiled cheerfully at him despite his dour appearance, ever happy to just make a sale. As she rang up the items, Vincent caught sight of a slightly exasperated Tifa negotiating with Marlene over something. He couldn't help a small smile at the fact that the children hated shopping for clothing even more than he disliked it, and were a good deal harder to persuade to cooperate.

After fishing enough gil from a pocket on his belt, Vincent paid for his clothing and waited near the door with his bag sitting on the floor beside him as he leaned against the wall. He would have looked in the shoe department, but in his experience specialty stores sold better quality goods of that nature, if higher priced. Thus, he would wait until they found another store to look for boots that were a tad less eye-catching than what he wore now. And maybe less pointy.

**Tifa:**

"_No_, Marlene!" Tifa hissed for the third time as the little girl pouted. Denzel was in the changing room, trying on jeans and shirts. Marlene all but stomped a tiny foot and whined again. "But I want to get it for him!" she protested. Tifa nearly pulled out a lock of her hair. Wait, better still, Marlene's.

"It's…" she groped for a word that was child-safe, "…not appropriate," she finished weakly. Marlene immediately asked, "Why not?" Tifa groaned inwardly. _God, that'll take me years go explain_, she thought wildly. But Marlene wouldn't understand; she just wanted to surprise her best friend in the world.

"Because," she answered shortly, then said, "We don't have enough money right now." Marlene tucked the proffered item under a small arm and dug in her pocket, producing a few gil. "I have enough money!" she said, holding up her small hand. "Daddy left me some when he visited last; said I could buy whatever I wanted!"

_Thank you so much, Barret ,_Tifa thought sourly. _Wonderful_. But all right, then. She resolved to wash her hands of the matter, although she quailed inwardly to imagine Vincent's face at Marlene's little 'present'.

"Fine. But you can give it to him after lunch, all right?" Excited by Tifa's capitulation, Marlene squealed and bounced, thrilled. Tifa reluctantly added the little present to her pile of purchases. Finally getting Denzel's clothes finished, she and the kids lugged their stuff to the counter and Tifa paid the sales clerk, nearly wincing visibly at the amassed total. And she still had to shop for herself. _Just not today_, she thought forlornly. Oh well, the clothes she had were still in good condition. They'd last, hopefully a few months more.

All three carrying bags, they finally joined Vincent, standing at the door, waiting with seemingly immortal patience. Marlene immediately attached herself to the tall ex-Turk, beaming up at him. "I got you a present!" she crowed right off and held up one small bag. "But Tifa says I can't give it to you till after lunch." Her dark eyes crinkled. "It's a secret and I paid for it with my own money!"

Tifa, bordering between heavy exasperation and mortal embarrassment, flushed and said hurriedly, "I see you found what you needed." But one eyebrow rose. "I think we need to get these two somewhere they can run and tire themselves out." Denzel and Marlene tensed in excitement.

We going to the park now?" the little boy grinned. Tifa nodded. "Yes, so you two can whoop and scream yourselves silly." Twin cheers escalated and the kids bounded out of the door, nearly knocking Tifa over as they jolted past her. So encumbered was she that she dropped one armload of bags and slapped up an arm to keep herself from tumbling nose first to the floor. Her hand met hard metal and soft leather as it encountered the buckles decorating Vincent's chest.

Tifa hurriedly regained her balance, cheeks now _flaming_ at the spectacle. _God, I was never _this_ frazzled before…now the man thinks I'm completely helpless _and_ a total klutz._ Ducking her head and bending to retrieve her packages, she muttered, "Sorry. They get excited. I've tried to cut down the sugar intake, but I think they sneak it from the pantry when I'm not looking…"

**Vincent:**

A present? Vincent raised a brow at this, though was inwardly touched by the notion. He started to tell her that it was unnecessary, but was stopped by the clamor that followed. To Tifa's suggestion he nodded, and when she stumbled and caught herself with a hand against his chest, he didn't so much as move from the action. She was trying to carry too many bags, with too little sleep and not enough to eat. He knew she wasn't normally this off-balance.

Knowing she would never _ask_ for help - hell, none of AVALANCHE had an easy time doing that - Vincent knelt and stopped her from picking anything up, doing it himself to lighten her load. "I'm sure they do, but it's alright." He would rather see them acting like children are supposed to be than to see them moping and worrying as they and so many others had before the Geostigma had been cured.

He stood with her bags under one arm and picked his up in the other. "I'll need to stop by another store later, but that isn't as big a priority." With a little more room to spare for carrying things, he transferred his bag to the other hand with hers already under his arm, then extended the free hand to her, "I can carry more," he said to her in his usual quiet way, his red eyes meeting her darker orbs.

**Tifa:**

After dropping two more bags before he stopped her, Tifa finally gave up. Rising, she placed a hand to the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. In and out, calm, calm, calm. That was the ticket. _Just breathe, Tifa_.

Finally regaining a bit of her equilibrium, she nodded her profuse thanks and gave him one other bag, opting to keep two for herself, not wanting to turn him into a pack mule. She met his gaze and gave a lopsided smile. "Thanks, Vincent," she said simply. "Well, c'mon, let's chase the children."

Preceding him out the door, she spied Marlene and Denzel at the corner, eagerly awaiting the light to change. Firmly reining them in, she took hands and the four trooped across the street and down the block, then turned right, revealing a large spacious patch of green smack in the city's center. New-Midgar's Garden, it was styled, a lovely refurbished area, complete with playgrounds for younger patrons and covered benches and paved walkways for all.

Lush flowerbeds and assorted fountains decorated here and there, adding an idyllic beauty to the place. Marlene and Denzel whooped and shot for the swings, feet flying with childish delight. Tifa sank gratefully onto one of the benches, bags at her feet, leaving enough room for Vincent to join her if he so wished. She smiled up at him, gaze leaving him to watch the children.

"They love coming here," she said, seeing both fall into play with the others that romped and cavorted. "We come at least three times a week. There's really not enough room in the backyard," she grimaced, "and it's a frightful mess. Eventually I'll get around to fixing it up a little bit. But," she nodded to the park, "there's plenty of room here, so they can scream themselves into a coma and sleep like rocks later." She rubbed her forehead idly. "Did you find everything you need?"

**Vincent:**

Vincent sat beside her at half an arm's length, seemingly buried in shopping bags as they were naturally settled around him. An amusing sight, considering the particular gunslinger in the situation. The ex-Turk didn't mind carrying the numerous small burdens, his strength and balance were more than enough to accommodate. And unlike Tifa, he didn't require much rest to stay that way.

Once again he wondered how everyone had stopped in now and then and had not noticed her frazzled state. Another bit of bitterness rose within him toward Cloud for this neglect as he watched the children at play. What was lacking here that Cloud so desperately wanted? Other than a certain flower girl...

He chased the thoughts away and answered her, "Mostly. I need new boots, but I prefer buying those at a specialty shop. It's harder to find something I like at a department store, especially if I want something durable." He looked at her, taking in the tired, distant sort of smile she wore.

"What about you? Did you get everything you need?" He didn't really mind if they had more shopping to do. Most of his was done and out of the way, so he didn't have that to be concerned over.

**Tifa:**

"Mmm," she replied, absently watching the kids romp, "more or less. The kids have things enough to tide them over. They're all set until fall." _Which will be another strain on finances_, she thought tiredly, her smile slipping a bit. But it returned as quickly as it faded. "There's a store a few blocks from here that has stuff like that," she told him. "…Cloud always got 'work clothes' there, anyway." She was proud of herself, that she hadn't stumbled over the man's name. Inch by inch, she was slowly letting go. The ties were many to cut.

They sat together for a companionable while, then the two children finally came over and all but piled atop them, sweaty, grubby but thoroughly excited. "Tifa!" Marlene wiggled between the two of them as Denzel perched to her other side. "Can I give it him now?" she pleaded, large eyes earnest.

Tifa, knowing Marlene wouldn't relent until she got her way, sighed and nodded with an indulging smile. The little girl chirped in excitement and hopped down, rooting through the myriad parcels until she found her small bag and presented it to Vincent with an eight year old flourish.

"Look inside!" she instructed excitedly, almost clapping her hands in delight. Tifa braced herself and could have slunk under the bench at what came _out_ of that package. It was a novelty t-shirt, garishly yellow, bright enough to outshine the sun, complete with a stencilized graphic of none other than Cloud, atop a Chocobo, brandishing his buster sword at a falling meteor. Obviously meant for the younger crowd, Marlene had spied it and immediately wanted to give it to her best friend, thinking he would be tickled to have a shirt with Cloud on it.

Tifa gnawed her lower lip, giving the former Turk a helpless and despairing expression; she'd _tried_ to dissway the little girl, but to no avail.

**Vincent:**

Once the initial look of surprise passed, Vincent actually had to suppress a laugh. It came out as a small but lop-sided grin instead, which tickled the child to no end as she took it for delight, "You like it?" she asked, hands clasped in hope and joy and awaiting confirmation. Okay, now was the time for one of those necessary lies. It was, after all, the thought that counted.

"Yes, thank you very much, Marlene. I don't think I've ever seen anything quite like it..." The last part was truth at least, as he glanced at Tifa with a minute sparkle of humor in those crimson eyes. Marlene whooped and threw her arms around his neck in a squeeze that could pop a chocobo's head right off. He returned a simple pat on her back and put the shirt in his bag after she released him. The yellow seemed to glow against the simple black and white of the rest of the bag's contents.

Marlene half-twirled on her toes and plopped back onto his lap. "See Tifa! I _told_ you he'd like it! And I bought it with my own money!" she again reminded him.

He smiled with a hushed sigh. "It is thoroughly appreciated. Lunch and dessert will be my treat, as thanks." No doubt Tifa could use the money elsewhere, and he had more than enough saved from their adventures and not many ways to spend it. Still, he looked to her for approval, his eyes questioning.

**Tifa:**

Tifa remembered to breathe as Vincent blinked and finally grinned at the ridiculous garment. She giggled quietly at Vincent's blatant fib, silently thanking him for it. As Marlene plopped back down, she stroked the little girl's hair.

"Yes, Marlene," she relented, "you were right. I'm glad you bought it." She gave Vincent a look from beneath her lashes and smiled. She blinked at the offer of lunch and dessert.

"Vincent," she began, "you don't have to…" But the kids immediately pounced on it and began prattling their choices, which Tifa hurriedly settled. "We'll get hot dogs and ice cream for dessert," she said firmly, brooking no refusal.

But the kids were sent on the task of bringing back lunch from the park's vendor, Denzel clutching the coins Vincent dug out for him. Hand in hand, the two set out across the park, leaving the air quiet once more. Tifa reached over and gently gave Vincent's shoulder a squeeze.

"You didn't have to do that, Vincent," she said quietly, other hand tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "And I'm sorry about the shirt. She saw it and went crazy over it."

**Vincent:**

He shook his head as they watched the two run off for the food vendor nearest to them. "It's nothing. And I don't mind the shirt... though yellow is hardly my color and the print is a little... much. It's the thought that counts," he told her, voicing his reason for reacting as he did. He shared another small, brief smile with her before voicing his earlier thoughts while he had the chance, knowing they would be wrapped up for the rest of the afternoon with Denzel and Marlene.

"Tifa, I understand that you aren't the type to ask for help. None of us are. But I want you to understand that I'm not just here to visit. I wish you had told me or one of the others sooner that you had so much on your hands." He looked back to the scenery before them. He could see the children received their orders and exchanging the money, trying to balance bags of food with drink-holders and ice cream cones.

Watching them, he continued in the same soft monotone. "If there is anything you need, do not hesitate to tell me. I will never think less of you for it, and helping out is my main purpose for being here."

**Tifa:**

He was going to make her cry again. _Damnit._ But she swallowed the lump in her throat and managed to string together words to answer. "I wanted to," she said quietly. "Every time I talk to one of them." Her fist clenched, lying upon her thigh.

"But I don't want _any_ of you feeling sorry for me because of Cloud," she declared passionately. "I _know_ I was a fool for loving him, trying to be the one thing he needed, when it's painfully clear he doesn't even know _what_ he needs. I don't want to be seen as a charity case." She snorted. "Which is what they would all think, Vincent." She shot him a dark look. "And you know it." A small ironic snort.

But she didn't have steam enough to continue and merely sighed. "I need a friend, Vincent. Someone to talk to, to scream at, to beat on when I can't hit anything else." She flushed a bit. "Well, maybe not _quite_ that far, but still." _Something to hold at night would be nice,_ her brain chose to interrupt but she managed to throw brakes on her tongue before _that_ fatality slipped out.

"When Cloud was around…I had that. A friend and a lover. He was there for me, just like he'd always said he'd be. And he just…wasn't. I've always had at least _one_ friend I could count on, and then I went to having…nothing. A hard change to get used to, given my life now. It gets so lonely sometimes…" She shrugged, falling quiet.

**Vincent:**

Vincent sighed, thankful the children were having a time trying to walk at a crawling pace to keep from dropping everything. "Tifa, some of them might pity you. But others would just sympathize. There's a difference between sympathy and pity. But I do understand. Others in the group haven't gone through anything similar, at least to my knowledge. You can't hide the truth from them forever, though." He paused for a long moment to stare at the ground as he gathered his many thoughts and edited which would be spoken aloud.

"Cloud is a good man, Tifa. But he's also a fool, and you are not. Anyone who knows you can see that. Loving someone doesn't make you foolish Tifa, it just makes you hurt when they don't love you the same way... or as much. That's something I can understand quite well."

The kids were getting closer, already beaming smiles at himself and Tifa. Vincent sighed and continued more quietly, unwilling to end it at that. "As is the loneliness of having no one. So I'm here. If you need to talk, or scream, or even hit, though I prefer you not, then come to me." The invitation felt a little like cracking open Pandora's box, for he knew that for every pain he saw in her, a hundred more were hidden. It didn't deter him.

Vincent Valentine was, if nothing else, a man of his word. He would be the friend she needed if no one else was welcomed to the knowledge of the truth but he. His mind briefly questioned whether she would ever want or need more than that friendship, but he quickly cast it aside. She had better taste than that.

**Tifa:**

"A fine line, Vincent," she retorted, "between sympathy and pity. And none of them show either well." She sighed and shook her head, again brushing stray hair from her vision. "Then he can be foolish by himself. I want no part of it. But the ties are slow to cut, Vincent. I'd prefer a sharp pain, to just get it over with. But I guess the worse hurts are the best; then when they stop you _know_ they're gone. There's no doubt of it."

As he spoke of his own pain and hurt, she couldn't help but lace her fingers with his, her grip firm and needing. Two were they. Adrift on their own seas of pain and doubt. God.

"I know you understand, Vincent," she whispered, staring at her toes. "Which is why I'm telling you all of this." But her sweet smile returned at his invitation and she bestowed it upon him, unable to stem the wash of tenderness that flooded her heart at the gentle offer and even brought their laced fingers to press his knuckles against her cheek for a fleeting moment.

"I promise not to hit _too_ hard," she said with a crooked smile, releasing his hand. By then, Marlene and Denzel returned with the goodies, not quite managing to dump the ice cream in Tifa's lap. But lunch was served all around, Vincent and Tifa falling into companionable silence in the light of the kids eager childish prattle.  
**  
Vincent:**

The tender gesture of her fingers lacing with his made him realize how much he missed small things like that. Against the pain it brought to recall the last time he'd done so, Vincent gently squeezed her fingers in return. The brush against her cheek dulled the memory, rather than inflame it as he might have expected. Her cheek was soft and warm, her skin glowing in the sunlight that managed to creep under the shade canopy over the bench. Cloud really was a fool.

The contact was broken as the children arrived, though Vincent caught a small grin on Marlene's face as she handed out the food with all the bearing of a miniature adult, reciting what toppings came with which hot dog. Unanimously, it was decided that they would eat the melting ice cream first.

Vincent licked his from the bottom up, thoughtfully savoring it. Strawberry, chocolate, and vanilla swirled in a spiral reaching out of a waffle cone. He really should have bought himself some ice cream sooner. It was hard to brood while eating the stuff. He watched with a small smirk as the children seemed to get half of theirs on their shirts or faces, trying to hurriedly lick falling drops of melted sweetness as it ran over their knuckles and down their arms.

It was a good thing there were water fountains nearby. He looked to his only adult companion, hoping to see her enjoying herself as much as they were.

**Tifa:**

Covertly helping the kids get the food and drinks settled, she narrowly missed the ice cream Denzel waved under her nose. Hurriedly taking hers, she had no napkin and thus proceeded to get the melted cream all over her fingers. Lovely. But she laughed and licked her fingers, rendering them sticky. It was with some sort of abashed glee that she flicked eyes to the former Turk beside her, watching as he tasted of ice cream for the first time in who knew how long. Decades, probably.

"'s good, isn't it?" she asked, a twinkle in her eye. Marlene giggled, the stuff smeared over her nose and mouth and Denzel had managed to get a dollop on his shirt, now smeared from his licking it. "We'll have to get a bucket and take home," she said, to the kids' delight. Oh, but they were a mess.

Naturally, as kids are wont to do, they finished theirs first, munching the cones contentedly. Denzel scratched his head, getting the sticky stuff in his hair, making it stand up haphazardly. Marlene was hardly cleaner, her little mouth smeared liberally with chocolate. Tifa sent them to the nearby fountain to wash, although _splash_ was more appropriate. Oh well, kids would be kids. She turned to Vincent, a crooked grin on her mouth and asked, "Tasty, isn't it?"

With giddy delight, she watched as he finished off the last of his, licking his fingers as well. Tifa giggled and a brow quirked. "Honestly, Vincent, you're almost as bad as the kids." Sliding over a bit, she took hold of his chin and, before he could lick his lips clean, the pad of her thumb grazed the corner of his mouth, taking away the smear of vanilla that lingered across his bottom lip. "There," she said softly, "much better."  
**  
Vincent:**

The ice cream had a considerable affect on his mood, as it appeared to have on hers. As he popped the end of the cone - soaked in melted ice cream - into his mouth, he looked down in dismay to find tiny drops of the stuff on his cloak and even the inside of his collar. Good thing he'd bought the clothes, he would definitely need to wash these tonight. He looked up, fingers alternately being licked clean without the aid of a napkin - just as Tifa jestingly accused him of being as bad as the children.

He only had time to blink at her before her fingers gently grasped his chin and her thumb grazed the corner and edge of his lower lip. His eyes widened marginally, but it was enough to give him the blank appearance of a mouse staring up at a very large cat. His expression wasn't disgusted, afraid, or wary, but shocked. When her hand pulled back he absently bit his lip for a second, practically feeling his face coloring as he looked quickly at the children splashing water on each other.

"Thanks," he mumbled. Had she just... _flirted_ with him? No, likely just those affectionate maternal instincts, which he still was not used to. He brushed it off as such and let it go at that, hoping the slight pink in his cheeks would leave as quickly. Naturally, it didn't, but his extended bangs and cowl hid some of it.

**Tifa:**

Vincent wasn't the _only_ one shocked. After she withdrew her hand, it took all the willpower Tifa possessed not to just _stare_ at that traitorous appendage. _So soft, that skin…_ was the first thought her nerves relayed to her mind. Throwing a _strong_ rein on her shockingly perfidious brain, Tifa blinked back at Vincent, just as surprised as he. She had to kick herself to reply, and when she muttered, "You're welcome," she just _knew_ her face was flaming hotter than a mako reactor's core.

She lowered her eyes, absently fiddling with the hot dog cartons, thus she missed the mirrored flush that crept Vincent's cheeks and she too glanced at the kids, seeing that both were now mostly drenched from splashing each other. Without even glancing at Vincent, Tifa was trying to put it behind her, oh yes, she called to Marlene and Denzel and both trotted back obediently, taking the proffered hot dogs and managing to make another mess.  
**  
Vincent:**

While the children attempted to get at least half the condiments that covered their hot dogs into their mouth, Vincent ate slowly and in silence, staring mostly at his food and still convincing himself that Tifa had meant her gesture in a motherly, or at least platonic, way. By the time he'd finished his food, he'd done just that, and now managed to look at her again while the kids ran back tot he water fountain.

Somehow though, the mustard refused to come off as easily as the ice cream, and there was a good chance that both Denzel and Marlene's shirts would be ruined. Vincent gathered their trash and stuffed it into the bag the food had come in, then stood and walked the short distance to the nearest trash can. He returned to the bench, but did not sit as he sipped the remainder of his drink. "So... where to now?" 

**Tifa:**

Sighing at the prospect of another hellacious load of laundry, Tifa just shook her head and smiled at the kids. They couldn't help it. Standing and gathering parcels, she flicked a glance at Vincent. _Good_, she thought, _maybe I'm just being stupid and it's over with and done_. "Well, you said you needed boots, right? I'm all done with shopping, so we'll just tag along, if it's not a bother."

Well, as _if_ Marlene had _any_ inclination of letting her best friend go anywhere without her! He'd get completely lost! She reattached herself to his right arm again, skipping and hopping as little kids are wont to do, while Denzel, a bit braver than his counterpart, sidled up to Vincent's left side, a small hand wrapping around the brass of Vincent's left wrist, as not to cut himself on the sharp talons. Fine brows lowered in childish curiosity as the little boy turned the tall man's wrist back and forth, examining it but made no comment, returning to his former cheer and tagging along.

Tifa couldn't help but smile as she picked up her own bags; the sight was precious. A man she'd never have thought capable of such, carrying several shopping bags while two small children toddled along beside him, completely unafraid. _Perhaps it wasn't just for her sake he'd come here,_ she thought quietly.

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** **_Please_** see the notation in the first chapter.

**Disclaimer: **We, in no way whatsoever, own anything of and pertaining to the _Final Fantasy VII _or _Advent Children_ works; that right belongs to other fortunate souls. We also reap no monetary benefits from this exercise in literary creativity.

_**Chapter Four: **_

**Vincent:**

Though still feeling awkward to have two children so attached to him, not to mention walking with both hands clamped onto and shopping bags dangling from both arms, he said nothing of it and allowed them to guide him to the store that Cloud had frequented for the sturdier clothing needed in his line of work... well, at least when he _had_ worked. They rounded a corner at the next intersection, walked a block and crossed the street to a store called "Rag-Tag."

The establishment held all the charm of it's name and had unorganized stacks of shoe boxes along one wall, various racks of clothing in the center, and the wall opposite the shoes was lined with belts of all sizes, types and colors... so long as one considered black, brown, red and darker brown to be the only colors in the world, with a tan or beige accent here or there. The back wall was saved solely for gun-belts and scabbards.

The store smelled of leather and mink oil and oddly, gun powder. Vincent allowed a small smile to tug up at the corners of his lips. Even the great Sephiroth could have found something of interest here. They were able to leave their bags at the counter, and the moment the kids turned back around from helping to do that, they found Vincent already perusing the goods. Though boots were his main purpose for being here, a belt or two was another issue. Maybe a new gun-belt... his old one wasn't quit the right fit for Cerberus. Perhaps a new holster at the very least.

While making his way slowly toward the shoes, stopping to look at anything of interest, Vincent noticed Denzel mimicking his every move, seeming as interested in the goods as he himself was, though for different reasons. Of course, Valentine figured, the boy had idolized Cloud, and apparently looked up to the gunslinger as someone else to emulate. He probably dreamed of being a hero someday, right down the general "bad-ass" look.

To Vincent, looking good was secondary, function and durability came first. Finally, he made it to the boots with his original intentions back in the forefront of his mind, allowing his new "shadow" to follow him.

**Tifa:**

Tifa quickly intercepted fast moving hands before they could get a little girl in trouble. Marlene pouted, but relented, following Tifa as they ambled around the store. Though she didn't need anything from a place of this nature, Tifa could appreciate the need for such a place. The men had always spoken highly of it, the merchandise able to meet all their diverse needs. Besides, it was the only leather shop in town thus far.

Craning her neck to find Denzel, Tifa spied him close on Vincent's heels, paying hard attention to everything the former Turk touched or even glanced over. Perhaps Denzel would be all right. She'd been worried over him the most. Marlene still had Barret to call "Daddy", but both Denzel's parents had been killed earlier, during the war with Shin-Ra. Tifa and Cloud had found the little boy living in a dumpster not far from the bar and immediately "adopted" him.

Scared and reclusive at first, Denzel finally grew to accept his new family. And just when things had been turning around for the little man, he'd had yet another "parent" taken from him by Cloud's lengthy absences. A frown furrowed her brow and hot anger towards the man bubbled in her chest as she recalled the nights, some not so long ago, as she'd tried to comfort the little boy when yet another day of watching the streets proved fruitless. Tifa exhaled a deep sigh and idly fingered a long leather coat hanging on the rack. Would do no good to get angry.

Cloud was what he was, no one could change that. But perhaps Vincent Valentine would prove to be a better role model than Cloud Strife ever could. Knowing what she did of the man, Tifa didn't doubt it. Although most of the former AVALANCHE members regarded the ex-Turk with a mixture of loathing, disquiet, and general uneasiness, Tifa would not, _could_ not, not knowing what she did. Vincent, for all his dark brooding ways, was an honorable man, a gentleman.

Would that Barret, Cid and the others actually _see_ that and not condemn the man for crimes he didn't commit, but bore the sins for nonetheless, a burden Vincent would never see himself worthy enough to shed.

**Vincent:**

The stacks were categorized neither by color, size nor style, but instead seemed to be haphazardly piled in whatever order the stock-person felt like. Still small pictures on the outside marked what the items inside looked like, and within about ten minutes, Vincent had picked out three pairs to try on. He sat on a bench in front of a full length mirror, made for just such. Denzel quietly sat on another bench beside him.

All three pairs fit nicely, felt relatively comfortable, and looked alright. Two happened to have steel inserts in the toes beneath the leather, which was a plus but not necessary. Two pairs were black, but he'd also picked a pair of riding boots that were a very dark brown. He mulled over which to buy, then hummed quietly in thought and looked at the boy who had been silently copying his every move.

"What do you think?" Denzel blinked, surprised that he was being asked. Then he smiled and hummed in thought, much like Vincent had done. He put his thumb and forefinger to his chin and looked over every pair, including the ones the ex-Turk was currently trying on, "Try the brown ones on again."

Vincent did, and the boy grinned, "Well... I think those look best. But the black ones with the buckles on the side are cool too. I like both of those, the others don't look as good." The man nodded to the boy, and put his old boots back on. He looked at the price of each - neither of which was overly expensive - and decided it wouldn't hurt to buy both. He put the other pair back and held the two boxes under his gauntlet-clad arm, "It's settled then. Now, maybe you can help me pick out a couple of other things."

The boy responded with awe, then a grin as he accompanied Vincent to the back of the store, beaming with pride at having his opinion taken into account. By the time they left the store over half an hour later, Vincent had both pairs of boots, two belts to match, a new holster for his gun, and a couple of new leather pockets for his current belt to replace ones that had worn a little thin and ragged in places.

Now truly loaded down, Vincent had both arms full, Marlene still holding his wrist, and thankfully, Denzel carrying the boots as the boy had insisted. The look he shared with Tifa told her clearly that he was a little overwhelmed, more likely at his own splurging over anything else.

**Tifa: **

Marlene and Tifa hung back at an acceptable distance as Vincent boot-shopped; clearly this was a male thing. But she said nothing as Vincent indulged himself, if it made him happy, so much the better. Thank Gaia _she_ didn't need all this hardware; she squeaked slightly at hearing the final total. All she needed were her wits and a good pair of leather gloves. But the troupe was thoroughly loaded down as they left, even Marlene toted packages.

Miraculously, they arrived home with no major disasters and the kids unceremoniously dumped everything on the nearest table and high-tailed it for the living room and the television. Tifa just chuckled and began to sort through the bags, collecting the kids' clothes and somehow managing to shuffle the pile upstairs without falling on her nose. As she put everything away appropriately, she yawned tiredly and wished she could take a nap. Belatedly, she realized this was the fifth day of the week and the bar would be closed tonight. _Oh, praise Gaia_. A bad sign, when all her days began to run together.

But, she had chores to do and the sooner she got everything situated, the sooner she could pass out in bed. Knocking a knuckle on Vincent's doorframe, she gingerly peered inside and called, "Vincent? I'm going to start laundry. Do you need anything washed while I'm at it?"

**Vincent:**

Once home, Vincent had taken his purchases and headed straight for his room. He arranged the items in the closet, and had just finished when Tifa peeked in and asked for his laundry. He nodded and coughed quietly, "Give me a minute to change clothes." He pulled out one outfit that he'd just put away and picked up the towel from the previous night's shower, handing it to her as he passed her on his way to the bathroom.

He locked himself in, undressed and wrapped a towel around his waist as he cracked the door open to hand her his shirt, pants, cloak and socks, everything he wore minus the leather coverings that buckled over his thighs and torso. His hair was unbound, the red strip that usually held it lying atop the compact pile of everything else as he looked at her from behind the partially opened door, "I'm going to go ahead and shower. What do you need help with when I'm done?"

He leaned around the door frame so that his body was hidden from the waist down, as if the towel and his long spill of ebony hair weren't enough protection. He felt a little odd at letting her do his laundry, but figured he didn't know enough about the machine to warrant anything short of a disaster.

**Tifa: **

Tifa nodded and stepped aside as Vincent passed, headed for the bathroom. "Sure," she smiled easily. Arms crossed, she waited patiently for the door to open and extended her arms to take the proffered clothes but her brain hiccupped to an abrupt halt at what she glimpsed behind the partially open door. _Gods above, _this_ I never expected…_she remembered thinking frantically.

Tifa knew in that moment she'd never appreciated long hair on a man before, but the long falls of ebony that cascaded down a pale lithely muscled bare arm made her a believer on the spot. She couldn't _help_ but stare. Although the door was still halfway closed, the view afforded was interesting enough. _Damn, Vincent, _Tifa thought furiously, _in God's name, _why_ have you been hiding under all that? _

She just knew her mouth was hanging open and it was confirmed when it closed with a snap. Two crimson eyes peeking at her from around the door jerked her back into reality and she stepped forward to take his laundry and pasted a lopsided smile to her face.

"That's fine. Um, actually, I was thinking of just crashing for a while, if you wouldn't mind checking in on the kids every now and then," she heard herself say from far off. "The bar's closed tonight and tomorrow, so we get a bit of a break."

Shifting a bit, she maneuvered around and in doing so, managed to get a further glimpse of the ex-Turk all but melting into the door. It wasn't the fact that Vincent Valentine was standing in her bathroom, dressed only in a towel, nor the fact that the back of her brain, the part she'd all but ignored for nearly three years now, kept reassuring her she wasn't dead from the neck down and found this specimen of male quite attractive, that made her hiss in shock, drop the clothes and yank open the bathroom door, brows furrowed dangerously.

It was the fact that there in the pale near perfection of Vincent's body ran several long scars down the left ribcage, as well as three healed-over bullet wounds situated over his heart. Fear and long-dormant hatred for Shin-Ra bubbled to the fore inside her and she swore, hot words scalding her lips as hands shoved his hair aside and all but trapped him against the sink. Tifa pressed a palm against the old wounds, staring up at Vincent with a look akin to a glare.

"_Damnations_, Vincent," she ground out, "_what the hell happened and are the bastards dead? _" For_get_ the man's trepidation when it game to his personal bubble.

**Vincent:**

Her stare was noted, and made him feel a little self conscious. A feeling that skyrocketed when she suddenly pushed the door open and all but man-handled him towards the sink. He'd known she was strong, but was now reminded just how much as she nearly made him topple over, though half of it was from shock. Wine-red eyes widened considerably as one hand fought to keep the towel around his waist, and the other gently grasped one of her wrists.

"It's nothing..." he stammered, not in the way of a blatant lie, but rather in a way that said it wasn't something he wanted to talk about. He was taken back most of all by the look of near-rage on her face, and it took him a long moment to realize it wasn't disgust or anything negative aimed at him. He could have expected pity or sympathy from her... but these emotions directed at someone else for hurting him? It boggled his mind... and few things did that to Vincent Valentine.

He broke eye contact as he reluctantly gave an answer to her question while trying not to think of how it felt to have her hand pressed over his heart. "He is dead... we killed him over two years ago," he said very quietly.

No one had ever touched those scars. While the touch felt gentle, if firm and pleasant, the fact of what she was touching made him feel... ugly. Imperfect. And the monster inside nibbled at his thoughts, reminding him of what he really was, and what sins had made him that way.

**Tifa: **

"Bullshit nothing, Vincent," Tifa flared, not the least daunted by his grip on her wrist. If anything, it made her that much more determined to resurrect the evil bastards and slay them _again_ for their _butchery_! But his words permeated the seething smoke leaking from her ears and she blinked, brought up short. _Surely not Sephiroth…Vincent had still been in stasis…_ Brown eyes widened, then narrowed in realization.

"Hojo…" she hissed, fingers reflexively curling, nails pressing into his skin. _Of course_. She recalled now, that battle. They'd beaten down the mad scientist, and insane he had been, and she remembered Vincent delivering the death shot, aiming his gun right between the man's eyes. It'd frightened her.

Not the fact that Vincent killed him, but the total lack of expression on the former Turk's face. Much like now, she thought, looking up at him. He stared at the floor, red eyes unblinking. Withdrawing back into his shell. _Damnit, Tifa,_ she swore at herself. She lowered her hands and her gaze, taking a step back.

Averting her eyes, she managed to mumble, "I'm sorry, Vincent. …I just didn't imagine…" Anger coursed through her still, making her thoughts jumbled. _Damn_ that bastard! Killing him wasn't enough, she fumed silently.

_Go, Tifa. Leave the man alone._ Yes, that she could do. She left the bathroom, pausing to scoop up the fallen laundry and hurry down the stairs, before she put her fist through something, like the concrete wall.

**Vincent: **

He was left staring at the doorway once she left. His mind still reeled. Why had those scars upset her so much? He adjusted the towel around his waist, making sure it was secured as he walked quickly to the door, closing and locking it, and leaning on it afterward. He made a motion to sweep the hair from his face with his right hand, but wound up resting it on his forehead as he closed his eyes.

The scars were rather hideous... but not nearly as bad as what Hojo had done to him on the inside. Vincent silently dreaded the next time he would have to let the beast within him out. He would have to leave for a couple of days, get far away from Midgar and any populated areas, and let that darker nature feed on the monsters roaming the countryside. With any luck, it would be a few weeks before that had to happen. He hoped.

He sighed heavily and pushed off against the door, pausing in front of the mirror briefly to look at his reflection and the scars he bore. Vincent didn't see himself as handsome, attractive, alluring. He didn't see himself as forlorn, or tragic, or unlucky. He saw himself for what he honestly believed he was... someone who had done a great wrong, who had failed miserably, and who now paid for that with the weight of his sins, the unnatural, inhuman blood in his veins, and the seeming immortality he now had. The last was probably the worst side effect of Hojo's experiments.

He turned the water on, adjusted the temperature and dropped the towel to stand under the steaming spray, eyes closed and wondering what Tifa now thought of him. He didn't want her pity. He didn't her to be sorry for him... she had enough to worry about on her own. For the entire duration of his shower, Vincent found himself wishing she had never seen those scars.

**Tifa: **

Slamming the washing machine lid didn't help, she discovered. Nor did slamming it over and over until she slammed it on her own fingers and yelped at the pain. But that sharp pain wasn't the cause of the hot tears that misted her eyes, made her careen into the door frame as she left the utility room and stumbled into the kitchen. Tifa _really_ needed to hit something. Vincent had told her to come to him, but _that_ smacked of irony, since it was for _his_ sake she wanted to rend something asunder! _Gah!_

Tifa tore hands through her hair, ripping the knot loose. Sleep, that's what she needed. Blessed sleep. She drank a glass of cold water, which helped a bit, then peeked in the living room to check on the kids. As sticky and gooey as they both were, both Marlene and Denzel were sacked out on the couch, television still blaring. Tifa grinned and left them as they were. Better not to disturb.

She climbed the stairs, pausing for a brief moment when she heard the shower running, but sighed and went into her bedroom. Leaving the door open a crack, as to hear the kids, she kicked off her sandals and lay down atop the covers, devoutly wishing there was some way to repair those marks in Vincent's flesh, which still burned across her retinas in vivid detail.

Curling on her side, she ground her teeth and tried to calm down. She felt a smattering of pity for him, yes, but it was tinged with a burning desire for justice, no matter all that could be done had been. By Gaia, he was Vincent, and her friend, and…and…well, those reasons alone were enough to justify it. But after all that, he undoubtedly thought her disgusted and frightened, which was how her hasty exit looked. _Brilliant, Tifa_, she chastised herself. _After all,_ her brain reminded, _you can relate, can't you?_

Of its own volition, her fingers gently pressed against her abdomen, where a long thin scar of her own traced between her breasts and curved over her right side, testament to her own encounter with the Dread General, Sephiroth.

**Vincent:**

He didn't step out of the shower until he could feel the water running cold. He dried off quickly, avoiding the mirror until he could pull on his clothes. Black slacks, a white wife-beater (though he had no idea why they called it that) and a black button down, which he left unbuttoned. His feet remained bare as he exited the bathroom, still rubbing the towel over his head with one hand while his other held the leather coverings he hadn't given to Tifa. These he deposited in his room, for later cleaning.

He stepped back into the hall, taking in the sound of breathing from Tifa's room. He'd heard something banging downstairs earlier, but assumed it was either the children or her. He looked to her door... it was cracked. Should he check on her? No, best to leave her some space, aside from the fact he still felt somewhat ashamed.

He quietly walked down the stair and peeked into the living room, and upon seeing the children completely passed out, he turned and went into the laundry room instead. The washer was on its last spin cycle, or so said the timer. When it stopped, Vincent opened it and looked inside, wondering whether he should put the items in the dryer, which seemed easier to operate than the washer. He debated for a moment, then transferred the load from one machine to the other.

The dryer had only two operating mechanisms of importance: the timer and the "on" button. He turned the dial to sixty minutes on regular, and pushed the button. Nothing happened. He blinked and realized the door was ajar, closed it and nearly jumped when it immediately started.

That done, he walked into the kitchen and went about straightening up anything that looked to be in slight disarray. He needed the distraction... something to do. Anything but dwell on his past and wonder what Tifa thought of it.

**Tifa: **

The kids awoke about two hours later and went about their usual task of cajoling the only conscious adult for snacks and treats. Both pouted when they realized Mr. Valentine couldn't be bribed. But they settled down with their coloring books in their room, keeping quiet as to not wake the slumbering Tifa. Although, Tifa would have been quite grateful for the interruption, thanks to the dream she staggered through…

_Nibelheim. Seven years ago. Tifa ran through the burning town, desperately searching for her father. Ignoring the other pleas and cries for help. She had to find her father! He was at the reactor. Running, running, through the ash and flame. Wait! There was…something! "Father!" she shouted, trying to find him in the smoky darkness. Smoke thickened her lungs. "Father!" No answer. Nothing. _

_Run, Tifa, she told herself. Sephiroth is at the reactor, you must find Father! And then she spied the inert figure on the ground. Huddled and still. "No!" she screamed, falling to her knees beside her fallen patron, the gleaming length of the masamune shimmering in her vision. The tall retreating figure just ahead. Sephiroth. _

_Tifa blinked, cradling her father to her. Wait…no. The flames gleamed off ebony hair, reflected a crimson cape. _Vincent…_ Confusion writ her brow as Vincent Valentine _

_walked towards her, shotgun in his right hand. She shrank back, not understanding. "Hate me," he whispered, "for I caused this." What? No! This wasn't right! _

"_Sephiroth killed my father!" she screamed at him, even as he pointed the barrel of that huge cannon at the lifeless figure. "But it was I who allowed Sephiroth to be born," Vincent answered mournfully. "My fault, my failure." He pulled the trigger and she screamed, throwing a hand over her eyes and falling backwards. _

_When she dared look again, her father's figure was gone and Vincent was advancing on her, ageless sorrow and pain clouding scarlet eyes. "Vincent," she gasped, struggling to her feet, "w-what are you doing?" He shook his head. _

"_I have to spare you, Tifa," he answered simply, once more aiming the gun and Tifa's eyes widened as she stared down the barrel of Cerberus. She couldn't even scream as he pulled the trigger once more…_

Tifa bolted upright, shrieking and trembling, wide eyes still seeing the carnage that so ravaged the town all those years ago.  
**  
Vincent:**

Vincent had been in the middle of putting away the newly cleaned dishes from breakfast that morning when he heard the shrieking. Setting the glasses down, he bolted up the stairs in barely a heartbeat, almost silently on still-bare feet. He had no idea what was wrong, but the hair on the back of his neck was on end at the sound. The children's door was still shut and he heard them talking quietly, telling him they hadn't caught it as his sensitive ears had.

He flung the door to Tifa's room open without a care as to their last encounter and whatever feelings it had left behind. He stopped short when he saw her sitting up in her bed, eyes wide and hair tousled as she gasped for breath. His shoulders sagged in a sigh. A nightmare, of course.

He fought the urge to look down as he asked softly, "Are you alright?" His eyes showed concern, but also some expectancy at it having something to do with him. That bit of shame welled up again, and it was all he could do not to turn around and walk out.

**Tifa: **

Tifa was clutching her pillow and damn near to hyperventilating. Only her survival instincts kicked in and kept her from passing out. She nearly toppled from the bed as the door flew open and Vincent himself appeared in the doorway, sans red cloak and shotgun. But she could still hear the echo of those fatal shots, ringing in her ears.

Brown eyes were wide and staring as she tried to stammer, "…d-don't…Vin…c-cent…S-Seph…" She couldn't formulate coherency yet, but she shook her head and clutched the pillow tighter. Trying to claw her way from the vicious dreamscape, she ground her teeth and finally shouted, "_No!_ Vincent, no!"

**Vincent:**

He stared at her in confusion. Obviously she wasn't yet coherent, but his suspicions about her dream were confirmed in a sense. Another burden to bear, another thing to be ashamed of. Red eyes stared at her in concern from beneath furrowed brows, partially obscured under bangs that fell in disarrayed angles across and around his face. He stepped slowly into the room, hands out at his sides in a harmless gesture.

"Tifa. I don't know what's wrong, but you were dreaming. I won't hurt you... please calm down. You're going to upset the children." He hoped that, if nothing else, the last few words would shock her into reality. He reached the foot of her bed and carefully, slowly stepped around it, reaching one tentative hand out to her, palm up. His right hand.

**Tifa: **

Tifa nearly recoiled, but there was no gun. Doe-wide eyes searched the man's open hands frantically, seeking the lethal dangerous weapon. _Dreaming?_ Perhaps. Perhaps this was a trick, a wicked vile experiment by that insane scientist to inflame and disorganize her mind.

A whimper escaped her and she trembled. _Cloud…where are you?_ Wait, Cloud had abandoned them. A mewl followed her whimper and she sniffled. _No, Vincent is here,_ her brain told her, forcing her eyes back to the black-clad man. _And he was never at Nibelheim. Not then…not then. Only a dream, Tifa_. She eyed his outstretched hand for a long minute as he approached, then with a wail akin to a grieving child, snatched it in both of hers and brought him down beside her, on her knees atop the mattress.

Shuddering, Tifa threw both arms around Vincent's shoulders, burrowing against him, wanting to know it was _real_, and the nightmares, the fighting, the _horror_ was over. Hands fisted in his dark hair; she whispered brokenly, "…i-it wasn't you, Vin-c-cent. _He_ did it. Him." She squeezed her eyes closed. "Not y-you."

**Vincent:**

Though doubly surprised by her actions, given her previous dilemma, Vincent allowed her to pull him to the bed and wrap slender but powerful arms around him. It took a moment, but he lay his hands carefully on her back in turn, his right hand petting in a slow, awkward circle. He let out a sigh that fluttered tendrils of her hair and stared down at the top of her head. Had she been dreaming of Nibelheim? He didn't know the details, but he knew that her father and Cloud's mother had died there. Because of Sephiroth... because of him. He hushed her sobbing with his voice barely above a whisper, "Shh, take a deep breath."

He paused before asking, almost afraid of what the answer may be. "Would you mind telling me why it upset you like this?" He found himself resting his chin atop her head in her soft, dark hair, and didn't bother to stop for the time being.

**Tifa: **

"…y-you shot me," Tifa blurted, then buried her nose in a lock of black hair, nestled against Vincent's pulse. "…y-you said to hate you, that you caused it." Her fist clenched and slapped his chest. "Which isn't true!" she declared vehemently. "_Sephiroth_ killed my father! _Hojo_ caused all of it, Vincent!" she sniffled. She inhaled a shaky breath and let it go slowly, finally becoming conscious of his arms around her and his hand stroking her back. _So soothing_.

"You said you wanted to spare me. I don't know what." She shifted around, curling into his lap, much as Marlene had done every time the opportunity presented itself. "But it wasn't your fault!" she reiterated again. "That insane…_bastard_ is responsible for this whole _mess_!"

She hiccupped a sob again, face hidden in the curve of his throat. "You're his victim Vincent, not his monster. Just like Sephiroth…Zack…Cloud… Just like all of us…"

**Vincent:**

How he _wished_ he could believe her, as she curled onto his lap like a child, so unlike the maternal side of her he'd always seen before. To keep her from sliding off his legs and consequently off the bed, he tightened his hold on her just a little.

Another sigh into her hair as he closed his eyes, followed by, "Hojo was a terrible man, that much is true. But I saw it, Tifa, I saw it before anyone else had. I could have stopped Sephiroth from being the born the way he was, or at least from being raised by someone who considered him nothing more than a specimen from an experiment. I did nothing until it became too late to do anything... and that's why I have what you saw. And so much more that is dark and evil. I'm no victim, Tifa. And I'm no hero."

It came rushing out in a quiet, steady stream of utter conviction, as a man confessing his sins to a priest or holy man. He bit his lower lip for a moment, gathering his thoughts and refusing to open his eyes. He kept holding her, telling himself it was only to comfort her, but knowing it was because it somehow soothed him as well, the smell of her hair, the softness of it, the feel of her weight and her arms around his shoulders.

"I don't know why I shot you in that dream, Tifa. I would never hurt you. But the rest of your dream... it's true, in a sense."

**Tifa: **

Tifa shook her head, refusing to give in to his self-loathing. Curling her fists again, she abruptly sat up on his thigh, taking hold of his chin and forcing him to look at her. "What would you have done, Vincent? Died earlier? Died completely? Then Hojo might not have ever been stopped and the world would be lost." She negated again, shaking her head once more. "I don't believe you, Valentine!" she said hotly.

Tears splashed her cheeks again, but not from her fear, but from his pain. Too much truth on not enough sleep. No one should have to go through this, but sometimes it was the best way. _Over and done_, as her father used to say.

Tifa's forehead fell to his shoulder, her eyes closed. "You _are_ a hero, Vincent," she whispered. "A hero to us. To me." Some part of her rational mind screamed this was idiocy, Cloud would come home soon and all would be right.

But the other howled disagreement. Cloud was never coming home and Vincent was all they had left. And perhaps, the only thing they'd ever need. "Please believe me," she pleaded, tears splashing his white shirt.

**Vincent:**

He opened his eyes when she pulled back, some of his sorrows showing through his barrier clearly. When was the last time someone cried for him? Not since Lucrecia... and the last time he'd seen her, at the waterfall, she'd blamed him. It was her right, but it didn't lessen the pain it caused. A part of him hated the tears he now saw running down Tifa's cheeks. That same part wanted her to hate him, for everything he was and wasn't, everything he could never make her see because she was so damned adamant in finding the good in people, though it was bound to cause her pain. _He_ was bound to cause her pain, even more than he was causing her now. He hated himself even more for that. She was a good person; she deserved someone to rely on who could be what she needed, without the burdens and issues he carried. That someone had abandoned her... and Vincent felt that darker part of his mind hating that man, just a little.

He watched those tears until she leaned her head into his shoulder, her words spent. Another part of him felt relief at her sharing his pain, crying for him. No one had cared in so long. Still, he believed she couldn't really understand. He should have stopped Hojo. He could have.

"I wish I could be what you think I am..." he trailed off in a sigh and ran his fingers through the ends of her hair, staring at the dark strands thoughtfully as he held her. He continued without finishing the first thought, not wanting to upset her further.

"I know that you seem relieved to have me here. And that helps. It's enough that you enjoy having me around... that you want me here. That Marlene and Denzel want me here, even though I can't and do not want to replace Cloud. I won't lie to you and say I can believe that I'm not to blame, Tifa. But being here... lightens the burden somehow."

He felt strange telling her that, as if sharing some great secret. Similarly, his voice remained in a near-whisper. "That's really all I can say..."

**Tifa: **

Tifa didn't answer. She couldn't. She couldn't make him see, just as he couldn't make her see. Onyx colored glasses all 'round. A long heavy sigh escaped her as she just remained where she was, leaning upon Vincent. He'd invited her to do so, after all. And she just didn't give a damn anymore.

"Bury it, Vincent. Bury it way down inside, into darkness where no light can see," she said hollowly. Slowly she sat up, looking at him through tear-spiked lashes. "I _am_ relieved you're here." She reached down and took both his hands in hers, right _and_ left, threading her fingers with both metal and flesh digits. "If only for this right here," she went on, her grip tightening. "A good friend, to rely on. A shoulder, an ear to listen." She lowered her eyes, still retaining her grip on his hands.

"And arms to hold, when the horror won't go away. It never does, Vincent. I've discovered that the hard way." Her brow furrowed. "And I don't want Cloud. Or his 'replacement'. One of him is enough. He can't see past his own pain. And I know that I have to. The fate of others depends on that very thing."

A jerk of her head encompassed the room across the hall. Tifa released his hands and leaned against him again. "And I _do_ want _you_ here, Vincent." She shook her head, lying against his shoulder.

"None of them understand. They keep telling me 'it'll be all right'." She snorted and clenched her fist in his shirt. "Well, damnit, it's _not_ all right and I can't _do_ this alone anymore!"

**Vincent:**

His fingers disentangled themselves from hers, but only to gently pull her into another embrace against his shoulder. Her words put to rest - for the moment - the idea that he was only a substitute for her chosen hero. She was right. His pain had to be kept buried, as he had been trying to do, only to have it bubble up again and again, yet always hidden from others. Apparently just as she had hidden hers.

No one else understood, likely either because they simply couldn't, as in Yuffie's case, or didn't want to see Tifa as the sort who needed help. More likely, they all wanted to believe that Cloud was the one to help her, to be here when she needed him. Because that's how they saw the man ... as a hero. Hers, now that Aeris had passed and the planet was safe again.

Thus, once again, Vincent pushed his own feelings, his hatred for himself, down far enough to be in the here and now, to be the friend she spoke of and anchor her in reality. Fighting his reserved nature when it came to anything remotely emotional, he gave her a gentle squeeze as he replied to her words.

They don't understand because they haven't been through this, Tifa. They all care about you. I understand some of your pain, but in all honesty I think you have handled yourself far better than I would have. Especially in raising Denzel and Marlene. You don't have to do it alone anymore." He was likely biting off more than he could chew now, but he plodded on. "I'm here. As long as it takes, and as long as you want."

_Until Cloud gets his head on straight,_ his mind amended silently.

_To be continued..._


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** **_Please_** see the notation in the first chapter.

Also, Cloud appears in this chapter. I realize that everyone's perception of Cloud following Advent Children is different and ours might not be as "canon" as some folks feel. Please excuse it. It's a plot point. Also, welcome entrances by the rest of AVALANCHE's members.

**Disclaimer: **We, in no way whatsoever, own anything of and pertaining to the _Final Fantasy VII _or _Advent Children_ works; that right belongs to other fortunate souls. We also reap no monetary benefits from this exercise in literary creativity.

_**Chapter Five:**_

**Tifa: **

_As long as it takes, as long as you want._ Tifa pondered those words at least twenty times a day. Now, two weeks and three days later, she was surer than ever that having Vincent here was a _good thing_.

First and foremost, Denzel and Marlene simply _adored_ him; Denzel usually following him around the house and about town when permitted and Marlene seeking his lap whenever Vincent chanced to sit down. He was an adult who took time with them when Tifa couldn't, no matter how she would like to just play and carry on. For Vincent's quiet willingness in that regard, Tifa was more than thankful.

Further, Vincent had also taken over tending the bar and serving drinks. When he inquired of her how he else he could help in the business, she'd mourned that herself and Dezra were having a hard time keeping things running smoothly on the bar side, keeping the drinks coming and everyone happy. To Tifa's surprise but delight, Vincent quietly offered to learn the trade and, she thought, to his own surprise, was exceptionally good at it. He had everything under control in just three nights.

When Tifa asked him _how_ he managed to remember _everything_, it'd taken her _months_ to become decently proficient, the former Turk had simply given one of those rare slight smiles and answered, "I was a Turk, Tifa. We were trained to be observant, practical and above all else, quick-thinking." At her skeptical look, he'd relented enough to say his photographic memory made doing so a hell of a lot easier. _That_ she'd believed.

Adding Vincent to the bar's roster freed a _huge_ burden from Tifa's shoulders; she was able to take care of her customers as well as streamline things she'd been trying to get to for _ages_, making service smooth and easy, which was every place's goal. And, whether he noticed it or not, Vincent was actually good with the patrons. Folks who frequented bars generally wanted someone to listen to them, and a good listener Vincent was. By default, Tifa was sure. His quiet nature and deep personality was a soothing balm to troubled waters, a nuance folks quickly became to appreciate. Tifa couldn't count how many times she passed by to see one of the regulars deep in his cups, prattling over the counter to Vincent, who just nodded in all the right places and went right on in his duties, not missing a step.

Another thing Tifa noticed, although she couldn't _help_ but wonder _what_ Vincent thought of it, was the ever-present flock of female customers that just _had_ to find reason to visit the counter, regardless of their table's location. Every single night. While Valentine might not have noticed it, Tifa certainly did, being female and knowing how that certain mind worked, in some ways. And she finally had to admit that it irked her. She took wicked delight in the fact that no matter _what_ they did, which included fluttering lashes outrageously, dropping Meteor-sized hints that no _ordinary_ red blooded male could _possibly_ ignore, flashing a bit more skin than socially acceptable, Vincent merely went about his job, giving his now-famous minute half smile and served them with the same aplomb he would give a six year old child or an eighty year old man.

But Tifa swore that every single night, as Vincent escorted some half-potted brazen hussy to the door, notes and keys always ended up in his pockets, although she was pretty certain he hadn't put anything there. At least, as far as Tifa knew, he'd never followed up on anything. But, she reprimanded herself sternly, gathering spare glasses and silverware from the empty tables, it wasn't any of _her_ business anyway. Didn't make it easier to ignore, however.

Tifa glowered then resumed her neutral expression and carted the tub to the kitchen, where Rolfe and his little brother Will were cleaning the stove and ovens and washing dishes, respectively. Dezra was also carting in stray dishes and went back with a wet towel to wipe down tables and Tifa grabbed the broom, pausing by the bar to grin at Vincent, still cleaning glasses and placing them in the overhead rack.

"Good tip night," she remarked with a satisfied grin, eyeing the cash box below the bar. "It still amazes me how you _do_ it, Vincent." She giggled. "But however you do it, I'm glad you did." Flashing him another bright smile, she set about sweeping up, marveling at the shine of the newly-polished wood. Another of Vincent's little self-appointed chores.

Thanks to his willingness to help, the house now bore a touch up paint job, the backyard had been cleaned and trimmed, the refrigerator no longer needed to be coddled and pampered to remain cold, the kids room now bore the shelves she'd been meaning to put up for months, and a hundred other odds and ends had been taken care of, including the polish Vincent and Denzel had applied to the floors yesterday morning.

Tifa had felt a bit guilty and inept at simply giving him a _list_, which was what he'd asked for; she just chuckled and brushed it off. But it gradually dawned on her that, despite her unwillingness to capitulate, Valentine was skillfully drawing out the little tasks that needed doing, asking the right questions and picking up on Gods knew _what_ cues he plucked from their conversations.

Vincent never made an issue of it, he just did it and left her all but gaping when finished. She suspected it was somewhat of a game for the former Turk so she didn't call him on it. Her crew finished cleaning with alacrity and all were bid goodnight, Tifa locking the door behind them.

As Vincent locked the cash box and retrieved the books from beneath the counter, Tifa went into the kitchen and poured coffee, a post-evening ritual she and Vincent had fallen into since his addition to the bar staff. She took both mugs upstairs to the office, finding Vincent already seated at the desk, going over the numbers from tonight. Plunking into the chair beside him, she deposited his cup at his elbow, leaning back to sip at hers, thick with cream as she liked it. She'd never understand how the man drank his black.

As he scribbled and notated, she set her cup down and leaned forward, chin on her hand. "Well, what's the verdict? Are we approaching black line again?" she asked jestingly. _Heaven_ wasn't quite in the red, but she'd been close for a few months.

**Vincent:**

Vincent didn't answer for a minute, scribbling furiously to finish the book work and show the progress for the past two weeks, along with the night's profits. When finished, he laid the pen on the table and pushed the ledger across the surface to her, turning it toward her as he did. He let her take in the numbers as he picked up his cup and took a deep drink of the strong, bitter liquid.

Reclining in his chair until both shoulders popped, he offered her one of those small smiles that was slowly becoming more frequent. "See for yourself." As she stared in pleasant shock, he watched her eyes sparkle in relief. They had done _well_ that night, almost twice the average total of a usual busy evening. It surprised even him, and gave him a sense of accomplishment. Mostly at the thought of her being able to rest a bit easier tonight, being a step closer to her goal of having some remodeling done to _Heaven_.

They'd discussed it a few times, what she could do with a bigger, ritzier place, with room for a live entertainment stage, more tables, an extended bar with a wider selection of drinks and perhaps even a game room in the back, if there was enough money to go that far. A larger establishment would also allow for a dance floor to accompany the stage, and Vincent knew that would attract a much larger crowd, since all other clubs in town were either far out of the average person's financial reach or frequented by the undesirables of New Midgar.

Tifa's dream was a place where everyone could come and enjoy themselves, whether to bring a date for dinner and dancing or just kick back with a beer or mixed drink while listening to some decent music. The more nights they had like this, the closer they were to achieving that.

_They._

He thought about that little nuance. In the time since he'd come here, Vincent and Tifa had come to an understanding and a routine. Once settled into that, life had become... somewhat pleasant for him. Peaceful, if nothing else. His past haunted him just a little less, as his new job and the children gave him no time for dwelling on it, save the early morning hours when he sometimes lay awake to stave off the nightmares. Even those were less frequent now. These times after closing, they were helping him, too. They rarely talked about anything besides business, her dreams and thoughts, the children or even daily happenings, but the friendship was silently cherished by both, shared over coffee with tired smiles and often heavy eye-lids.

With one of those smiles and another sip of his coffee, he mused, "With any luck, we might be able to started expanding within the next couple of months. I've already talked to the bank, and they're willing to grant you a loan to purchase the house and lot next door, which, coincidentally, has dropped in price by five thousand gil." He left out anything he had to do with that matter.

**Tifa:**

Tifa leaned over and scanned the ledger quickly, her eyes widening as she took in the total amount of income from just tonight's business. "Sweet Gaia," she whispered, awed. "…Vincent…that's a _lot_ of money." She was about ask if he was sure that was right, but bit her tongue. Of course he was. But Holy Mother, she'd not expected such a jump. One long finger trailed along his writing and came to rest at the bottom of the page. She glanced up at him and grinned. "Wouldn't that be _great_? I've wanted to expand this place since I took it over." Her brow furrowed. "But…the next lot…"

Brown eyes narrowed suspiciously at him, but a shoulder merely shrugged. "Well, the place is depilated anyway. I'd love to get it and just redo the whole downstairs, as well as expand the upstairs, for when the team comes to visit." She giggled. "I know they don't mind sleeping in the living room, but Cid constantly complains about Barret's snoring and Nanaki's rumbling."

Taking a sip of her coffee, she went on, "Things have turned around so much I might have to start paying you, Vincent," she said, elbowing his arm playfully. Which reminded her… She cleared her throat before going on. "…um, speaking of, you know you don't have to stay here _all_ the time, Vincent." Gnawing on her lower lip, she explained, "That is, if you wanted to…um, prowl, or anything."

She honestly didn't know what men called it, but that was about as close to a metaphor as she could get and she just _knew_ her face was on fire. Besides, he was human, wasn't he? And she didn't know what effect the demons he carried would have over any certain length of time, which was another factor.

**Vincent:**

Vincent blinked at her and wondered at first if she meant his outings to let his inner beasts loose, but since he hadn't exactly told anyone that he had to do that now and then, and judging from her blush and stammering, he guessed it to mean something else entirely. A hundred different offers came to mind, none of which interested him in the slightest. He was one of those few men who viewed sex as being healthy and justified only in a relationship that held a decent amount of love and respect, otherwise humans were no better than animals or monsters who copulated purely for the sake of instinct or breeding.

He cleared his throat before replying, "Oh. Well... I don't really have much interest in 'prowling' as you put it. I am content here... though I should probably tell you that soon I'll have to take a couple of nights off. For... personal reasons." He looked down into his mug on those last words. It always made him feel inferior to talk about the things he had to do in order to sate the demons within. He could only hope no humans came near him when he was lost in their rage.

The look on his face and in his eyes was enough, he knew, to tell her what he spoke of. He'd worn a similar look many times before, after every transformation, though he'd caught only her noticing once or twice.

**Tifa:**

"Oh," was all she said. Clearly the man didn't want to drag those ghosts from the closet, but Tifa was _insanely_ curious and everyone knew that she'd niggle at something until she sated her curiosity.

Tifa swirled the dregs of coffee in the bottom of her cup and finally put it on the desk before she dropped it. "Well," she said, trying to put a bright face on it, "you've certainly earned a few days off. Just…be sure you come back, all right?" She blinked up at him, eyes imploring. But she couldn't help a small evil tinge of glee at the vision of those, those…_bimbos_ fluttering their flags in an uncaring breeze.

But she caught the expression on his face and softened, lifting one hand to push aside the thick curtain of black hair over a shoulder. "It's okay, Vincent," she told him softly. "I don't think any less of you because of it. I can't imagine what it's like for you, but the rest of us know it's simply a part of who you are and I know that I, at least, accept that. It doesn't make you less of a hero to me."

She gave him a small smile, brushing her knuckles against the line of his jaw, trying to reassure the man. Inwardly, however, she was afraid of Chaos. Partially because she didn't understand it. Vincent kept that part of him hidden from _everyone_, but Tifa could understand why.

**Vincent:**

"I will," he replied to her, meeting her eyes for a moment before looking down into the small bit of remaining coffee. Her hand brushing his hair back, then tracing his jaw with her knuckles caused him to ease a little. Enough to allow him to speak easier about the subject, and what he knew others thought of him. His voice was quiet, half sighing as he looked at her, sincere, honest and melancholy.

"Tifa, we both know that not everyone feels the way you do. And inside, I know that some parts of me would scare you, too. I'd be worried if it didn't. I know, and appreciate, that you think of me the way you do. But you don't have to pretend for my sake that you all are unafraid of me." The melancholy in his eyes died away with practiced quickness as he continued in a more conversational tone.

**Tifa: **

She wanted to yank his hair out. Tifa's brows drew down and she glowered at him. One strong hand clamped to his shoulder and turned him part-way around, making him look at her.

"Vincent," she said, tone adjusting to the one she used when speaking firmly to the kids over some mischief, "will you _stop_ this nonsense? One of these _years_, you've _got_ to understand that I'm not lying to you." She snorted wryly. "All right, yeah, I might be a little unnerved by all the demon nonsense, but I can't honestly believe you'd ever hurt me, Vincent. I just can't believe that. And as for the others," she made a negating motion with her hand, releasing his shoulder.

"Let 'em be stupid if they want. Even in that nightmare, you wanted to spare me. You wanted to _save_ me, Vincent, and if shooting me was the only release…well, so be it. Maybe it would have been preferable to living Sephiroth's hell, but it didn't happen, now did it? Thanks to _us_. _You_ included."

She thumped his arm. "The only way to conquer fear is to understand it, Mr. Valentine. Didn't your 'all wise and knowing' Turks teach you that?"  
**  
Vincent:**

He couldn't believe her, of course. He hadn't before, he couldn't now. He had learned how to deal with it, though, and just chuckled softly and nodded with a half smile. What he said was truthful, more than the smile he wore and the way he nodded, "I'm glad you think highly of me, Tifa. I count your opinion far above most others."

His ears detected talking outside, familiar voices. His brow furrowed slightly in recognition, then smoothed as he exhaled with a very minute smile. "I think someone has finally decided to come home." The words were spoken quietly, and Vincent couldn't help feeling some amount of regret inside.

Cloud and the others being there would likely change things, upset the small routine they were in now. Despite what she had said, Vincent expected that Tifa would welcome him back, especially in front of their friends. She would have her lover and friend back, for however long a time.

Maybe it was supposed to be that way. Maybe Cloud would stay this time, leaving Vincent out of the picture again, for he wouldn't feel quite right living in the same house with a man he resented silently, if mildly.

**Tifa: **

Tifa knew he didn't believe her, but she never ceased to drive the point into his brain every time she got the chance. Who knew, _maybe_ one day he'd believe her. But it was moot, for the moment. Tifa came from her contemplation of the thought to echo, "Come home?" with a blink.

The knocking on the door proved Vincent correct; someone, or from the sound of it, several someones were waiting outside, rather impatiently at that. Tifa left the office and hurried downstairs, the sooner she got the door opened, the sooner the noise would stop and maybe the kids would remain asleep. It _was_ two in the morning.

She threw the lock and opened the door to be engulfed in two strong dark arms, lifting her completely from the floor. "Tifa!" Barret boomed, squeezing the breath from her lungs. She hugged him back, genuinely glad to see him.

As her feet met the floor, she was yet again accosted by another pair of male arms, these attached to a lanky muscular man with a shock of yellow hair and a roguish grin. "Cid!" she exclaimed. "Put me down!" A guffaw and he did so, thwacking her rump as he passed into the room.

A muted growl of greeting echoed around her waist and she affectionately rubbed Nanaki's broad head as he glided past. She peered outside, breath slightly catching at the sight of an achingly familiar figure hanging behind. He shuffled into the scant light and gave her a lopsided grin, for which she wanted to both strangle him and hug him breathless.

Acutely aware of everyone's eyes on them, she settled for a quick hug and a soft kiss on his cheek, saying, "Welcome home, Cloud. We've missed you." But somehow, her words lacked the former girlish enthusiasm and she moved away to close and re-lock the door.

As she turned around, she spied Vincent on the stairs, not yet willing to make his presence known, but ever watching and observing. None of the others, she noted, had seen him yet either. Barret grinned and settled an arm around her affectionately, as was his wont. "Found your stray on the side of the road, Tif. Said his bike'd broke down miles ago and he was hoofin' it." His chortle echoed around the room as Cloud shrugged and ran a hand through ever-tousled hair. "So we thought we'd haul him back here."

Cid snorted, taking a lounge on a barstool. "Yeah, and the runt owes us mileage, too. Plus free room and board," he winked at Tifa.

She laughed. "All right, you two. Play nice. Accommodations are the usual; you guys can have the living room fold-out couch."

Cid grimaced. "Hell with that thing. Why can't _I_ have the upstairs room this time? Yuffie got it last, the sneak thief, and that was only cause we could lock her in."

**Vincent:**

At the top of the stair, and silently descending to half-way down, Vincent watched the troupe march in and greet Tifa with good-hearted jesting and hugs all around. He watched her hug Cloud, saw the man taking it as comfort for granted... and something within him ached. He gave it no further deliberation than that... it just hurt somehow. He'd seen the light-hearted slap on the bottom from Cid and only smirked at it, and smiled slightly at Barrett's bear hug that could have crushed her, and Nanaki's affectionate feline brush against her leg.

None of it bothered him as watching her with Cloud now. He quickly pushed that aside as he listened to the conversation, unnoticed. _No time like the present_, he thought, taking Cid's complaint as his cue. He walked downstairs, clad as none of them had seen before in still-dark but normal clothing, and answered with only the barest hint of amusement, in his crimson eyes rather than on his lips.

"Because it's already taken, Highwind. Sorry, beat you to it." He fully expected shock, more shock, and likely one of Cid's favorite string of curses and something involving the nickname "Sunshine."

**Tifa: **

The good humored jesting abruptly ceased as Vincent appeared. Cid's mouth fell open, completely cutting off what he'd been about to say next. The cigarette dribbled unnoticed from his hand to the floor as he gaped at Vincent striding in the main room. Tifa didn't need to look around to see the other looks of complete crogglement on her companions' faces.

"What in Satan's fucked up nursery rhyme are _you_ doing here, Sunshine?" Cid finally managed to drawl out, rising from his barstool, tension running through the man's shoulders. Even after all this time, Tifa realized with a heavy heart, even after all he'd done for them, they _still_ didn't trust him. It was enough to prick her ire. Tossing her head, she smacked Cid's shoulder and answered breezily.

"I invited him here, Highwind," she loftily informed the captain. "So shush." She dared a glance at Cloud, who still remained back behind the others. But he was looking at Vincent with the strangest expression.

Leaving Cid to snort indignation, she moved back to him and placed a hand on his arm. "Hey," she said softly, giving him a smile. "Not gonna hug me?"

Cloud finally looked back at her and he grinned, that smile still making Tifa's heart jump. Dropping his sword and pack on a table, he encircled her waist with one arm, pulling her to him. "I might," he rasped at her throat.

Squeezing her a bit, he sighed. "Sorry I was gone so long, Tif. Just had to take care of some things, was all."

Tifa withheld her sigh. His same excuse. No explanation. Just that he had to "take care of things". Which he never did. Just brought them all back with him again. But she gave him a reassuring smile and he leaned up to kiss her gently, a gesture she had a hard time returning, she realized with a jolt.

Hurriedly stepping back with an apologetic smile, she chuckled softly and just tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, quietly clearing her throat. It was going to be strange…

**Vincent:**

Ahh, it felt both good and bad to be right. The amusement didn't leave Vincent's eyes, as it might have weeks before. As noted, he fully expected the reaction. But this was Tifa's home, and if she welcomed him, it more than outweighed the opinions of others.

Arms crossed, Vincent simply leaned against the wall that lined one side of the staircase and added onto Tifa's answer as to his presence. "As she said, she invited me here. I offered to help out with things in the bar," he stopped himself from saying anymore. He didn't wish to cause Tifa any problems, concerning her issues with finances, stress, and Cloud. Mostly Cloud, he noted.

"It's nice to see you, too, Cid. And the rest of you as well." He offered a polite nod to the group, his eyes staying for a moment on Cloud's, with a strange look of knowing, which Vincent was a master of. His hair fell in its usual barely-bound disarray over those intent red eyes.

"Well, I'll be damned," Barrett rumbled, flexing his prosthetic arm out of habit, the mechanical joints clicking rather than popping as he turned to Tifa with a look of mixed concern and accusation, "Tifa, you been having problems with the bar? Someone been bothering you?"

Naturally, he took Vincent's comment that some sort of threat had arisen and she'd neglected to tell him.

While Tifa answered him, Nanaki padded closer to Vincent before sitting on his haunches, the only amicable one of the group, "We didn't expect to find you here, Vincent. But I am glad you seem to be doing alright. You look rather different."

The large cat had always seemed far less put off by Vincent and his beastly transformations. Likely because Nanaki, or Red as some still nick-named him, was himself an animal. Though arguably, more intelligent than most in their party.

Vincent exchanged the slightest smile with him, "Yes... well, I figured it might be easier if I looked less-"

Red finished for him with a toothed grin, "Menacing? Unfriendly?"

Vincent's small smile twinged at one corner into a smirk. "Yes, you might call it that."

The cat chuckled in his low, gruff purr and turned back to the others, watching as he usually did, as did Vincent as well.

**Tifa: **

Tifa's eyes widened at Barret's questioning; Gaia, what to tell him? No, better leave a light note on things for now. "Well," she said, hitching a hip on a nearby table and leaning against it, "things have been pretty quiet, bothersome wise," she twinkled at Barret. "But business is growing and since Cloud is waist deep in the delivery routes, I needed a few more hands to help keep things on the ground here at home."

There, all right and proper, as not to alarm them. Cloud gave them a half smile as well, looking completely lost and forlorn at the same time.

Cid chortled. "Well, until he gets his wheels fixed, he'll be stuck here, so you can put _him_ to work and let Sunshine here crawl back to his garlic and mirrors."

_That_ comment nearly had Tifa knocking a few of Cid's teeth loose and she bristled inwardly. But she couldn't help a scathing retort. "At least he's _helpful_," she sassed. "And doesn't make a big mess and _leave_ it when he visits, Cid Highwind! You leave my living room trashed like you did the last time and I'll take a broom to your butt, you hear me?"

Taken a bit aback, Cid blinked and made a palm-out gesture. "Calm down, Sparky," he drawled soothingly. "I's just playin' around, you know that."

Tifa crossed her arms and glowered at him. "Well, find a new rig, that one's getting tiring."

Beside her, Cloud chuckled and asked, "Mind if I go on to bed, Tif? I'm pretty crashed and could use a shower and sleep."

_Urk_. Tifa swallowed the lump in her throat. Amazing, she'd forgotten she and Cloud _shared_ a room. Which meant the bed. Which meant she'd have to sleep beside him. _Oh, Gaia save me_. She missed the conspiratorial, meaningful look that flashed between Barret and Cid thankfully, else she might have bashed them both a good one on principle.

But she forced a smile and nodded. "Sure, I know you've got to be tired, having to put up with these ingrates."

**Vincent:**

Vincent brushed Cid's comments aside in his mind and took heart in Tifa's bristling defense of him. Barrett sighed in relief that Tifa's problem was nothing major, and laughed at Cid being on the receiving end of her ire, clapping the pilot on the back. But Vincent didn't miss the curious, suspicious look the dark man shot him, and it wasn't a look of mistrust so much as a thoughtful inquiry on what might really be going on.

It vanished, though, when Cloud and Tifa exchanged words and a kiss goodnight. Vincent felt the sigh in him that no one could hear, save Nanaki, who looked back at him curiously. Vincent didn't notice. The ache returned inexplicably, and he looked down, only to meet the wizened stare of a large shaggy cat.

Nanaki's golden eye, the one that wasn't squinted and scarred over, shone in an understanding, if surprised manner. Vincent wondered what exactly the cat was thinking, what he had observed or discovered. It didn't really matter.

Valentine looked at her again, watching that smile that he'd come to recognize was fake. So... she really wasn't all hugs-and-love for Cloud, not this time. Maybe she really had given up on the man, but then he realized she would still be sleeping with him.

The couch was going to be occupied, he had the guest room, and there wasn't much else in the way of beds. Maybe he would offer her his room for the night, later, once everyone else was settled in and he could do so in private. He was tired, but he could afford to stay up and busy himself with cleaning something or other.

**Tifa: **

Recalled to her manners as hostess, Tifa fetched blankets for the men after Cloud disappeared upstairs, realizing it was now three in the morning. Exhaustion was pulling at her, but trepidation and worse awaited her upstairs. She laughingly left Cid and Barret fighting over the lumpy worn couch in the living room and passed Nanaki in the hall, pausing to give the large cat a friendly ear scratch and a fond smile.

Emerging once more into the main room, she spied Vincent behind the bar, automatically cleaning glasses that were spotless already. Dreading to climb the stairs, she veered that direction and leaned on the counter. "Why don't you get some sleep, Vincent? I know you're tired. We're both beat." She rolled her eyes. "And I didn't expect the traveling circus to arrive tonight, either."

**Vincent:**

here wasn't really an easy way to approach the subject, so Vincent chose the direct, blunt manner. He kept his voice low as he sighed and put the glass down, leaning toward her, "If you want, Tifa, you can sleep in my room tonight. I'll just finish up some things down here."

Not that there was anything that needed it, at the moment. Nothing that wouldn't wake the guests, at least. He slung the dish-cloth over his left shoulder out of habit and leaned with his elbows on the bar. His face didn't often show fatigue, but tonight it did, with slight puffiness under his eyes accompanied by dark circles against his pale skin, which had somehow gained a tiny bit more color these past couple of weeks.

Though he was tired physically, most of it was mentally, emotionally, and had happened in the past hour. Still, he could easily go without one night's sleep if it would make things easier for her. He certainly didn't envy her position.

**Tifa: **

Tifa reached out and grasped his right hand in her left, chiding him gently. "Vincent." But she sighed and gazed down at the pristine bar counter, dark under its new coat of polish. She shook her head. "No, I've got to face it sooner rather than later." She lifted tired eyes up to him with her usual smile. "But I appreciate the offer. And I'm certainly not going to deprive you of rest." She withdrew her hand and straightened. "Get some sleep," she ordered. "You look like hell."

Giving him a chuckle, she turned and ascended the stairs, spying the open bathroom door and the partially closed door of her bedroom. Tifa took a deep breath and stepped inside, closing it gently behind her.

Cloud was just in the process of climbing in bed and Tifa merely leaned against the bedroom door and watched him as he moved. When had he become unfamiliar to her eye? She'd known him all her life, but now, looking at him was like gazing upon a stranger.

He spied her and flashed a smile. "Hey, what're you doing over there?" He patted the mattress beside him. "C'mere."

Rather than turn and flee for dear life, Tifa walked to the bed and sat down opposite him. She tried, she really did. "Cloud, are you all right? It's been _weeks_." She knew some of the desperation and fear leaked into her voice, but she couldn't help it. There were still many ties to cut, although they were slowly being severed over time.

Cloud shrugged a shoulder. "Yeah, I'm fine. Was up in Kalm Town, doing a few odds and ends. You know."

He shrugged again and Tifa wanted to smother him with a pillow. _Bullshit!_ But she plucked at the comforter. "Denzel and Marlene have really missed you, you know," she said, unable to keep the tartness from her voice.

"I know and I'm sorry," he replied, shifting around a bit. "I'll make it up to them."

_Same answer as before_, she thought tiredly. Would the man never see that? _No, because he doesn't want to_.

Cloud sat up and snaked an arm around her waist, grinning playfully. "Say, were they the _only_ ones that missed me? What about you, Tif? Didn't you miss me?" he breathed at her ear, running a hand up her side to tilt her head.

Before, she'd relished his touch and affection, now, it just made her feel used and uncomfortable. A palliative. And she hated that. Demurring softly, she brushed away his hands and mouth, sighing. "Cloud, I'm tired. You're tired. Let's…get some sleep, all right?"

A bit put off by her refusal, Cloud blinked and pulled away, shrugging. "Sure." He turned over, facing away from her. "G'night, Tifa."

She rose from the bed, suddenly sick to her stomach and snatched up her nightshirt, mumbling to no one, "I'm going to get a shower."

But she didn't make it to the bathroom before her knees gave out and she slumped against the wall, sliding to the floor outside the bedroom door. She tried to cry, but no tears came. So she just sat there in the darkness, praying for daylight to come soon. So she could hurt again.

**Vincent:**

Vincent stayed at the bar for long minutes after Tifa left him there. Elbows still on the counter, he slumped to leaned his head on the polished surface for a moment, tempted to pour himself a drink of something stronger than coffee.

Whatever this feeling was, he wanted it to go away. She was going to go in there, try to say whatever it was she had to say to Cloud, and he was going to play it off and expect Gaia-knew-what from her. And he didn't know how she would handle that.

Cloud was going to break her. Just like Lucrecia had broken him.

With a sigh he pushed himself away from the counter and ascended the stairs. So lost in his thoughts, he didn't noticed the silent, hitching sobs his ears were catching until he set eyes on her.

There, in the floor outside her bedroom, leaning on the wall as if it were her very last support, Tifa sat, looking dazed and lost. He expected to see tears running down her cheeks, but they were dry, only her breath was catching as she seemed to try to force them. She was in her nightshirt, so he knew she had already been in her bedroom.

Cloud's bedroom.

Valentine stood there, staring at her for a few heartbeats. That ache swelled in him again, and he realized that part of it, the recognizable part, was bitterness at Cloud.

Red irises never leaving the sight of her, Vincent strode silently down the hall, stopped just before her, and knelt. He didn't know what to say, no... he knew there was nothing to say. He could only do as he promised he would, and just _be there_. A silent guardian and friend.

Gingerly he reached out with his right hand to brush her hair away from her face, then rest the backs of his knuckles to her cheek, making her look at him, at the pain and deepest sympathy only she was allowed to see.

**Tifa: **

Brown eyes were unfocused. The soft night-light in the hall threw ghostly shadows, playing off the sharp angles and lines, dimming and blurring them to soft clarity. But Tifa saw none of it. Footsteps approached and she knew she was sprawled most undignified on the floor, but she didn't care.

_Let them see, let them all see what's been buried for so long. I no longer care._

She couldn't _pretend_ anymore. It wasn't until a moving darkness swam before her eyes and an achingly gentle touch brushed her cheek, tilting her head to gaze into scarlet eyes, the unnatural jewels spun with a sadness too much for one heart to bear, that Tifa finally blinked and brought Vincent into focus.

One hand rose to circle fingers around his wrist as she leaned into his touch, closing her eyes as the tears finally crested her lashes and spilled over ashen cheeks. Licking dry lips, she stammered, "…I-I can't, V-Vincent. I can't p-pretend anymore…" She sniffled. "I've g-got to tell them, it's just k-killing me to live t-this…_lie_. Please…" she whispered, forehead falling to his shoulder, "help m-me…I don't know w-what to d-do…"

**Vincent:**

He cupped her cheek in his palm and wiped at the steady stream of tears than streaked it with his thumb, though more replaced them. Ever so careful of his gauntlet, he hooked his left arm under her knees and moved his right behind her shoulders, holding her to him for a moment before lifting her and whispering, "You can tell them tomorrow. I'll help you if you need me. Right now, you're going to rest. Somewhere away from _him_."

Even someone who didn't know him well would note the thin threads of vehemence in the last word, accompanied by the grim look he wore, the way his lips drew into a thin, clamped line. It passed quickly as he carried her into his room, thankful the door had been cracked. he pushed it closed with his foot and sat on the bed with her, cradled in his lap much like he had once before.

If she needed to cry, she could cry here. If she needed to scream, he would take it in silence. If she needed to hit something, she could hit him. Though how he _wished_ she'd hit Cloud...

And if she needed to be held, then he would hold her until morning came to give her the strength she needed. His chin rested against her hair again as he whispered, "Let it go, Tifa. Whatever you've been holding in - and I _know_ it is much - you can let it out here." They were across the hall from Cloud, and it was likely no one would hear.

And if Cloud or any of them got angry at her being in a room with him, then they could say so to Vincent's face.

**Tifa: **

For once in her life, Tifa didn't argue at being ordered. She just couldn't muster the willpower to give a damn. She was so numb, so empty. But her hands fisted in Vincent's shirt then slipped around his neck as he lifted her and carried her across the hall to the guest room, closing it behind them.

Tifa burrowed into Vincent's caring embrace once again as he sat on the edge of the mattress, fighting against the pain that threatened her weary heart. "I can't, Vincent," she muttered against the dark fabric of his shirt. "It's been a part of me for so long, I don't know who I'll be without it."

Sniffles accentuated her words, the syllables ripped from a raw throat. "I want to hate him so much! For leaving us, for not being there. For…for…everything! For holding me to a hope I could never realize!" Her fist curled and she tensed, _really_ wanting to put it through something.

Tifa began to shake, shoulders trembling uncontrollably. "Aeris is _dead_, Vincent! _Why_ can't he understand that! She's never coming back! _Never!_" Shudders wracked her as she wept into Vincent's shoulder, her sobs muffled by his collarbone.

"God, I feel so dirty…! So…used and tainted, knowing I can never measure up to his 'perfection'!" she half-snarled between choking sobs. Further words were lost on a torrent of tears, spilled down from shattered eyes, pulled from a completely broken heart. But, as painful as it might be, the ties that bound her were separating, jagged cuts of harsh serrations, flailing at a tender and gentle soul.

**Vincent:**

Both arms tightened gently around her, as if to keep her together. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips and nose to her hair as she wept, sobbing all her pain and insecurities and questions of why Cloud couldn't love her as he had Aeris. There was really no answer to that.

Why _did _anyone love anyone else? Why had Lucrecia chosen Hojo over him? Why did Cloud string Aeris along, only to love her when it was too late and ignore the one who'd been there all along?

There were never easy answers... not when you were the one in love with someone like that. He rocked her gently as she let the torrent loose. Eventually he turned to lean on the headboard of the bed, which thankfully he was near, and pulled her with him. He kept her close, still in his lap as he whispered the only answer he could find. The only one he honestly, truly believed as that ache within him cut to his soul with her every shaking lament.

"Because Cloud is a fool, Tifa, he's just a fool…"

_To be continued…_


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** **_Please_** see the notation in the first chapter.

**Disclaimer: **We, in no way whatsoever, own anything of and pertaining to the _Final Fantasy VII _or _Advent Children_ works; that right belongs to other fortunate souls. We also reap no monetary benefits from this exercise in literary creativity.

_**Chapter Six: **_

**Tifa: **

Years of waking at first light never allowed Tifa to sleep long. And sometimes she _really_ missed that habit. Even before she opened her eyes, she knew she wasn't going to enjoy waking up. A massive throbbing echoed between her ears, testament to her hysterical crying jag. Reflexively stirring in the hopes to stagger downstairs to make coffee, Tifa blinked open surprised eyes as her mattress sighed and shifted beneath her. _That_ was strange.

As her vision unblurred and focused, she realized she was in the guest room, not her own. An even more thorough examination proved that her pillow and mattress was Vincent Valentine himself. Tifa nearly gawked at the realization. Apparently sometime after she'd cried herself to sleep last night, Vincent, leaning against the headboard, had slipped into slumber as well, head resting on a pillow crammed between the headboard and his shoulders.

Tifa wiggled and quietly squeaked as Vincent's arms, still cradled around her, shifted and curled around her more securely. She was laying half on and half off of him, her head comfortably nestled under his chin. She returned it there, staring quietly at nothing.

The memories of last night's events returned and she realized just _why_ she was in Vincent's room. Ah, yes. The boys were back in town. She snorted softly. A glance at the covered window revealed no bright sunlight, so it wasn't quite time for anyone to be stirring, as none were early risers save herself.

**Vincent:**

For the first time in longer than he cared to remember, Vincent's dreams were somewhat pleasant. Nothing big, just random images and scenes of what he'd come to know as everyday life in the past couple of weeks. Working the bar, watching Marlene and Denzel, talking with Tifa about everything and nothing. Well, mostly listening to her and adding his own thoughts to punctuate the conversation. He was getting better at holding a conversation, though.

The stirring of the frame he held pulled him slowly out of those dreams, and for once he wanted to hang onto them, to revel in slumber without the pains of the past. Once his mind realized it was indeed dreaming, it was not content to remain that way, and eventually he reclaimed consciousness. He noted first the weight resting on him, that it radiated warmth, breathed in a soft, steady rhythm and smelled pleasantly feminine. He placed that smell immediately, as he did the hair that tickled his chin and neck. _Tifa..._ His eyes cracked open to look down on her, and reality came fully back to him.

Cloud was back, along with most of the others. Tifa had broken down in the hall, and he had carried her in here to hold her as she wept herself to sleep. They couldn't have been sleeping long, which both relieved and disappointed him. He was relieved that no one else was up yet, and disappointed that they'd gotten so little rest. _And she'll probably want to go soon,_ his mind added before he could curb the thought. He was mildly surprised at himself, at his desire for her to stay here, with him. He knew she was awake - her breathing pattern was deeper and slower when she slept than it was now.

He reasoned his desire to the simple fact that as soon as the others were up, she'd either have to tell them the truth or keep up the lie. Neither would be easy, but the latter would cause her more pain in the long run. His arms tightened around her as he inhaled deeply and blinked away the last of sleep with a whisper, "Good morning."

**Tifa: **

It took her a few bleary moments to realize that there was no sunlight because it was raining outside. As Tifa lay there quietly, she gradually became aware of the gentle _pinging_ on the roof. Ah, lovely day, she thought idly. A few minutes later, she felt Vincent draw in a deeper breath and a quiet rumble echoed deep in his chest, warm beneath her cheek as he whispered morning greetings.

Loath to move, Tifa just remained where she was, unwilling to give up the complacency of a non-judging presence. The opposite of which she'd doubtless have to face downstairs later, she thought with a frown. But she smoothed her brow and softly sighed, nodding gently. "G'morning, Vincent. Sleep good?"

**Vincent:**

Vermilion eyes closed again as he answered her inquiry, the faintest of smiles tugging the corners of his lips. "For once, yes." It was different from the usual nod and short answer he gave her when she greeted him in the mornings. Those times, he felt like it might have been obvious that he was merely saying what she wanted to hear. This time, the answer was genuine, and showed through in the soft, clear and unhurried reply.

He looked down at her again as he returned the question, "You? Are you feeling a little better now?" The softly rumbling baritone dropped a little on the last few words. He remembered the way she had cried last night, and dreaded seeing her like that again. If Cloud somehow broke her even worse when she told him the truth... No. Vincent stopped that train of thought before it returned him to the bitter, angry notions of the previous night.

**Tifa: **

A gentle smile graced her lips at his answer. True, it was the same one he always gave her, but from the unusual warmth in his voice, Tifa dared hope he spoke sincerely. Vincent's quiet question recalled the events of the previous night and her smile slowly faded. But thoughts of Cloud and her crying jag didn't cause the ache to reemerge in her heart; she felt numb inside. _Waiting to let go_, her mind whispered silently.

Choosing her words slowly, Tifa answered, "…I think so, Vincent. I feel…strange, truthfully." She twirled fingers idly around a stray lock of dark hair, strewn over Vincent's shoulder. "I dread it, of course, because I don't want them to think less of Cloud…or become all 'fatherish' towards me and rain down sympathy and affection."

She snorted ironically. "None of us are perfect, I think I finally realize that. If Cloud can't be my 'hero', then so be it. It hurts, but that's simply a part of life. We've just got to put it behind us and move on." She sighed again. "And I think I'm finally ready to do that. I don't want to hold onto broken dreams anymore."

**Vincent:**

He nodded to her. It was good that she could let go. That she wanted to, was ready to. That had been his biggest downfall, in another life that seemed worlds apart from his existence now. He'd never been able to let go of Lucrecia, not when she had refused him, not when she had went to Hojo, not even when he lay awake at night, tortured by thoughts of the woman he loved in another man's bed, carrying another man's child. It never helped that she occasionally threw him a little attention, or even a lot of it. It had just addicted him more, cut him deeper when she pulled away again.

So much like Cloud had done to Tifa. He liked to think he had helped her come to this decision to break off the relationship, but knew she'd been on her way toward it for a while. He would aid her in whatever way she needed in actually going through with the plan, nonetheless. Whether that meant simply being there for her, as he was now and had been last night, or standing by her offering his silent support when she told them all the truth.

One of her comments caught his attention and made him feel a little self-conscious, which spurred his next hesitant question. "... am I being like that? Fatherly, I mean."

**Tifa: **

A soft chuckle left Tifa's lips before she could stop it. He sounded so unsure, so uncertain, it tickled her humor. Giving him a quick squeeze, she lifted off him and crawled to sit beside him, still comfortably ensconced under his left arm. Unafraid of the wicked talons that now rested against her waist, Tifa returned her head to Vincent's shoulder, her arm draped across his chest.

"Actually, Vincent," she answered, eyes half-closed, "you're the only one of them who'd understand, _truly_ understand. Like you said, they've never had to deal with this, so they can't know." Her arm tightened a bit and she burrowed closer. "I truly can't see you blundering about in a blustering rage, threatening to whip Cloud's ass for being so moronic, so no, Vincent. You aren't being 'fatherish'."

Tifa exhaled heavily. "I don't care. In all actuality, it's no one's business but mine and Cloud's. Barret and Cid can just get over it." She lifted her head and pressed a soft kiss to Vincent's cheek. "But I'd have been a worse wreck without your help, Vincent," she whispered. Her smile returned. "So, thanks."  
**  
Vincent:**

It seemed... almost natural, being with her like this. Her words brought another minute smile, as did her kiss on his cheek, which the former Turk still wasn't quite used to. He wondered what time it was, since his room lacked a clock. He'd have to buy one, sooner or later, rather than relying on the internal device of instinct that told him the "round-about" time. It told him now that it was somewhere between maybe seven and nine, though it could be earlier. The rain made it harder to tell, but set such a soothing backdrop to their conversation.

His right hand came to rest its fingertips on the back of her hand against his chest as he looked at the small calluses hard work and years of training and fighting had put on her slender digits.

"You're welcome, anytime," he said, then sighed. "Everyone will probably be up soon..." He didn't want to get up yet, or watch her face her problem right away, but the sooner she left his room, the better. He didn't care what they thought, personally, but it might cause some awkwardness between Tifa and himself, and they could do without that.

**Tifa: **

Tifa knew she better get moving, else the kids would beat her downstairs and the noise would cause no end of ruckus. Although she felt an irrational hot flash of anger and resentment for having to _sneak_ around her own damned house. Another black mark against Cloud and her emotional attachment. But it was for the best right now, lest suspicions sprout where there were none to be had. "I know," she replied tiredly, briefly lacing their fingers. "And I need to get started on breakfast. The kids will be galloping about any time now."

Leaving her comfortable nest, Tifa rose and gave Vincent another heartfelt hug before opening the bedroom door and slipping into the hallway, where all was still quiet. Her own door was closed and she gave it a brief glance before shrugging and heading downstairs. Once in the kitchen, she set about to the familiar routine of making breakfast, adding extra for the three men now beneath the roof. _Much_ extra. All three could pack away food like the worst famine starved refugees known, so she made sure to have heaping piles awaiting then they finally staggered awake. As well as two pots of black coffee.

A purred rumble made her start and nearly throw hot grease on Nanaki, sitting on his haunches just inside the kitchen door. "Blessed Gaia, Red!" she exclaimed, hurriedly putting down the skillet, "don't _sneak_ like that!"

Looking a bit sheepish, the large cat lowered his head in silent apology and replied, "I am sorry, Tifa. I did not mean to startle you. But the night has passed and I could tolerate no more of the snoring humans. My ears burned the night long. Might I trouble you for a dish of water?" He seemed abashed for the asking. "The rainwater tastes disgustingly metallic and stings my nose."

Tifa chuckled and filled a large bowl with icy water from the fridge. "Here," she said, placing it on the floor for him. "Bottled, so it tastes better."

Nanaki gave her a feline grin and drank deeply, licking his lips when done. He was silent for a moment and Tifa glanced at him, blinking to see him regarding her with a curious stare. She opened her mouth to ask but he beat her to it.

"Tifa," the cat said thoughtfully, "there is more to Vincent's being here than a helping hand, is there not?"

Tifa began to answer, then abruptly closed her mouth. _Gaia, what a question._ Removing the bacon from the stove before it burned beyond recognition, she thought about choosing her words carefully, then snorted. _Hell with it. I'm planning to tell them anyway. Might as well start. _

Slathering butter over the half a loaf of toast, she answered slowly, "…somewhat." She shook her head. "Things aren't right here…not with Cloud and me. After the whole incident…" She launched into the same tale she'd given Vincent, moving as she spoke to get breakfast ready. "…and I've finally figured out that there's nothing I can do about it anymore. I can't help him unless he lets me and Cloud doesn't seem to want my help anymore."

The cat, who'd remained quiet throughout, tilted his head and replied, "Yes, that is true." He lowered his head a bit. "I can understand your unwillingness to let the others know. But it is good that you are doing so." One eyebrow twitched. "Although I foresee queries rising from the ashes. Especially in light of your houseguest. Please," he added as Tifa glared at him a bit, "do not be offended. You know as well as I that the others don't fully trust Valentine. And I know Cloud will think of Vincent as his replacement, Tifa. The minds of men are murky and quick to find fault elsewhere. Although," he said, good eye shivering in a wink, "you could do worse, I suppose."

**Vincent:**

He answered her hug with a gentler embrace, only nodding as she, too, side-stepped the real reason she would have to go. He watched her leave and sat in solemn thought for a few minutes. How _would _Cid and Barrett react? He guessed that Nanaki wouldn't care as much either way, since he wasn't much of a meddler and seemed to accept things as they came.

Barrett was understandably concerned about any sort of problem Tifa might face, and Cid had become almost equally attached. Yuffie looked at the woman as a sister, and Vincent was thankful - for Cloud's sake - that the young ninja hadn't come along with the others. In any case, he knew it was better if he were downstairs when it all began rather than walking in on the conversation as he had the night before.

With this in mind, he rose and took some clean clothes with him to the bathroom, where he got showered and cleaned up quickly. He came out of the bathroom in time to see Tifa's door opening, with Cloud walking out. Their eyes met in an uneasy, silently accusing stare.

"Good morning, Cloud." His only reply was a curt nod as Cloud brushed past him and entered the bathroom. The way the door slammed shut seemed to indicate his awareness that Tifa had not come back to bed the night before. Oh well, he could get the hell over it.

Vincent shook his head and descended the stairs, entering the kitchen to find Tifa staring at Red with a slightly flustered look. He'd heard them talking, and had come out of his thoughts in time to hear the cat's last sentence. He feigned ignorance, though. For both their sakes. "Good morning. Did I miss something?"

**Tifa: **

Tifa's blush returned as Vincent strolled into the kitchen, further reaffirming Nanaki's silent thoughts on the debacle. But the large feline merely nodded his head respectfully at the man and returned his greeting, excusing himself and padding away on silent paws. Regaining her flustered brain, Tifa turned and pasted on a bright smile.

"Nope. Here," she said, handing him the plate of pancakes, "help me cart this to the bar?" Without waiting for an answer, she bustled from the kitchen, placing breakfast in a long line atop the bar counter. Five minutes later, both Denzel and Marlene clattered downstairs, Denzel complaining bitterly that the bathroom door was locked. Tifa perked an ear; Cloud must finally be awake. She told him to use the one downstairs, but Marlene had beaten him to it.

Yet the little girl's glad shriek of "Daddy!" echoed through the house and Barret's booming laugh answered. Cid emerged, rumpled and yawning, rubbing his eyes, but perched atop the bar and helped himself to coffee. Barret and Marlene appeared, the little girl perched on her adopted father's hip, a permanent attachment it seemed, judging from her grip.

Amidst the chaos and commotion, Tifa quietly went upstairs, just in time to see her bedroom door closing. She tentatively opened it and saw Cloud pulling on his shirt, motions jerky and abrupt. "Good morning," she hazarded, not flinching as he whirled around and stared hard at her.

"Sleep downstairs?" was his opening shot.

Tifa resigned herself to the course and shrugged a shoulder. "I didn't sleep much at all."

Cloud sat and started to pull on his boots. "Amazing," he said, clipped. "Neither did I."

She moved away from the door and approached the window, arms crossed.

He watched her silently, then said, "Why is Vincent here, Tifa?"

_And here we go_, she thought to herself. "To help out."

He snorted. "Really."

She refused to be baited. "Yes."

Cloud stood and faced her. "Why didn't you call one of the others, why _him_? He's not even human, Tif."

_Oh, don't even go down that road, Strife_. Tifa kept her voice low and even. "I saw him in the City of Ancients." At Cloud's surprised look, she said, "He was there, same as he'd been during the incident with Kadaj. I was there paying respects to Aeris," she saw him swallow and lower his head at the woman's name, which fueled her resolve higher, "and invited him to visit. He _is_ one of our team, Cloud."

Cloud ran a hand through his ever-rumpled hair. "All right, fine. He helped out. But I'm home now and he doesn't have to stay, all right?"

_That_ did it for Tifa Lockheart. Her anger and resentment just _broke_ and her words rushed out in a torrent. "For how long? You've been gone for _five weeks_! And not a word! Just out there in the damned desert, pining for the past, when it wasn't even _your_ past in the first place, Cloud! We needed you _here_, damnit! _I_ needed you! I thought I was enough to keep you happy, keep you here with us. But apparently even _I_ can't measure up to a woman who never really loved you at all!" She was crying now, hot tears coursing over ashen cheeks.

Cloud just stared at her, eyes wide. "Tifa…" he began, but she cut him off.

"_No!_" she yelled, stomping a foot. "_Don't_ try to tell me you need time, you need to sort things out! I'm _tired_ of waiting for you to get over it! If you were trying, it'd be different, but you're still _dragging it around_!" She balled her fists, wanting to hit him. "It's going to _kill_ you one of these days, Cloud!"

His shout cut her off. "_I let her die, Tifa! I failed the entire Cetra race because I couldn't save her_!" he yelled back, undoubtedly looking for something to throw. "I couldn't be her hero, her champion! I _failed_!"

Tifa whirled around from her sobbing. "So you failed! You're human! None of us are perfect, Cloud!" She took a breath, then screamed, "You used to be _my_ hero but I don't want you anymore!"

Because she couldn't face him any longer, Tifa wailed and bolted for the door, shoving Cloud aside and nearly falling down the stairs, running blindly past the others. She clawed at the front door, finally threw the locks and stumbled outside, shaking in her anger, pain and fear. Breath burned in her lungs, forcing her feet to move. Barefoot, she ran blindly down the street, unsure of her destination, only knowing she had to get away.

At the house, Cloud stood dumfounded and finally regained enough of his scattered and shocked wits to scramble after her, shouting, "Tifa!" as he thundered down the stairs and through the bar, but stopped at the door, dropping his head and closing his eyes.

**Vincent:**

Vincent heard the shouting upstairs and paused in his meal. One by one, the others caught it too, each stopping in turn to listen, smiles and laughter and chatter all fading. By the time Tifa thundered down the stairs, everyone knew what it was about, even the children. No one managed to rise in time to stop her, though Cloud wasn't the only one who tried, just the first to the door.

A slack-jawed Barrett was the first to speak as all eyes rested on Cloud, none sympathetic. "What the hell was that all about?" He knew the answer, and cut Cloud off before he could give any lame excuse, "No, you know what? Fuck you. I know, we _all_ know it's about how hung up you are on all your damn issues." He seemed to realize belatedly that the children were present and muttered apologies to Marlene and Denzel.

Cid, coffee cup in hand, leaned on the door facing that lead to the bar area, speaking as Cloud stared angrily at the floor, "She ain't comin' back, boy. Aeris, much as we all hate it, is dead. I just don't get you. You have Tifa, a girl so many guys would kill for. Yer a lucky sum-bitch. Yet you just let all that run out the door." The man growled softly and pulled a cigarette from his pocket, clamped it between his teeth and lit it. So much for cutting back.

Vincent watched it all silently, as did Nanaki, and Denzel. Marlene was not so silent. As Cloud spouted in frustration, "It's none of your business, guys, so back off!" the little girl walked right up to him and punched him in the hip. He looked down at her in shock, more hurt that she would do it than from the minor sting itself. "It's everyone's business! You're never here! You never come home anymore! You always make her sad, you make _us_ sad! All she did was worry about you! Why couldn't you just stay? Don't you care about us, too?" Tears streaked the little girl's face by now.

She plodded on in her rage, cheeks and nose red with anger. "She's crying because of you. Always crying. Well she doesn't _need_ you here like before. So stop making her cry!" Cloud seemed capable of only staring down at her, bewildered, as she spun and ran back to Barrett, who let her bury her face in his vest as he picked her up.

Cloud looked around the room, hardening his gaze, "Is that what you all think?"

Silence fell over the room, before Vincent walked forward toward the door. Cloud met his eyes in a near-hateful glare, "Where the hell are you going?"

When sharp talons were used to roughly shove the shorter man aside, barely keeping from cutting flesh, Cloud could only gape at the quiet anger in those disturbing red eyes. "To find her." With those words, Vincent Valentine slammed the door behind him.

**Tifa: **

Cloud, still taken aback by Valentine's vehemence, recovered and turned to the others, meeting their hard gazes.

"What?" he demanded, face flushed. "You want me to go after her?" He shook his head. "She can't stand the sight of me, apparently," he snarled, bitterness laced in his voice. His shoulders slumped. "Doesn't matter. I'm just fucked up. Always have been."

Cid, exhaling a perfect smoke ring to the ceiling, crossed his arms and drawled, "Wouldn't do you no good. He's already beat you to it, Spikey-boy." Cid nodded at the door.

Cloud glanced at the closed door and sighed. "Yeah." His lip curled and a spark flared in his blue eyes. "Just let Vincent stroll in and make it all better. Right."

None of them answered. Cloud's anger returned, though banked and laced with sadness. "I just can't make anyone happy. Fine." Inhaling deeply, he threw back his head and marched upstairs and slammed the bedroom door.

Blocks away, Tifa ran until her lungs burned. The tears had dried on her cheeks; she just had to get away. To hopefully clear her mind. Nevermind that she was in her night shirt and barefoot. She ended up at the park; thankfully the place was deserted early Sunday mornings. The rain was a bare mist by now, but the clouds hung grey and thick overhead.

Padding through the wet grass, Tifa sank down on a covered bench near the back of the park. She drew up her legs and pulled her shirt over her shins, resting her forehead on her knees. Gaia, but she felt miserable. She'd just lost her dearest and oldest friend, possibly forever. Her logical mind knew she'd live through it, but why did it have to hurt so bad? And nevermind the others, doubtless they knew now; they weren't _stupid_. She sighed heavily.

_And I never had a thing for histrionics_, she thought with a bitter smile.

**Vincent:**

He had an unnatural knack for tracking and keeping up with people, particularly ones who ran blindly as Tifa had. He found her sitting on a park bench, forlorn and looking as alone as she probably felt.

Alone... did she want to be that way right now? She had fled to get away from Cloud, obviously. But what of him?

Unsure, he simply stood there, getting slowly soaked by the mist as he watched her from a distance, partially hidden behind a tree. The ache, the dull pain that throbbed deep in his chest the night before, returned now as he forced himself to give her a few minutes alone. The morning was unseasonably cool, though he couldn't be bothered by that, or by the wind-blown spray.

Finally he approached her, several long moments after spotting her. He stood near the far end of the bench, just under the shelter of its canopy.

"Are you alright?" He knew she wasn't. The question was more to inquire whether or not she wanted his company. At the first sign that she didn't, he would retreat to his former spot, to wait and watch over her. He couldn't leave her alone out here, though she could more than take care of herself. She just wasn't herself at the moment, weakened emotionally by her and Cloud's argument.

Cloud... the name went as far as to summon darker urges Vincent had to fight to keep in check. Now was not the time, though he would have to let them out within the next few nights. He dreaded leaving, if things didn't calm down by then.

**Tifa: **

Tifa hadn't heard Vincent's approach but she wasn't surprised to hear his quiet question. It occurred to her then that he'd actually come to find her and the realization almost made her cry.

_Of course Cloud wouldn't…_ But she banished that evil thought as soon as it crossed her mind. Lifting her head and lowering her knees, she leaned forward, hands clenching the bench beneath her. Breath left her lungs on a slow heavy sigh.

"Yeah, I will be. In about a thousand years." Unfair, she told herself, to sink further into debauchery. She was still berating herself for losing her temper with Cloud; the screaming match wasn't how she planned to talk with him. Nor inform the others of the situation. But it'd turned out that way, now she had to eventually return home and pick up the pieces.

"It's okay, Vincent," she assured the man softly, looking over and giving him a tentative smile. "Come sit with me." A small ironic snort.

"You're probably the _only_ one who'd want to, after this morning," she muttered sourly. "You know," she mused as he settled beside her, "even after all of it, I can't hate Cloud. I just feel sad for him. Which makes me wonder if I'm doing the right thing." She looked at her bare toes. "And then I feel guilty for severing those ties. I mean, what else does he have?"

Disgusted with herself, Tifa shook her head. "I'm being stupid. Loving hurts. And it's just not worth all this misery." She pouted a bit and linked fingers with Vincent's right hand. "Why don't we just _leave_? I wish I could, sometimes. Just pack up and _go_. Me, you, Denzel and Marlene. Maybe Nanaki, too. Close the bar and just wander for the rest of eternity." She tsked and rolled her eyes. "It'd never work, of course, but the thought's there just the same."

Tifa chuckled a bit. "Although I know you wouldn't want to be saddled with us forever. That'd get tiring."

**Vincent:**

Vincent sat by her as she directed, knees just far enough apart so that his hands could dangle between them with fingers laced as his elbows rested on his thighs. His head inclined forward, adding to his slouch as he watch the sprinkles of rain cause tiny ripples that overlapped in the puddles below them. He sighed.

"I know this is where I'm supposed to tell you that there is a kind of love that isn't so painful, but I can't bring myself to tell you something that might not be true. Still, sometimes it must be worth it... or the world would be even bleaker than it is now. At least there is friendship, and family. You have many who love you, Tifa..."

He trailed into a soft smile directed at her, preceding his next remark. "I don't know about forever, but I wouldn't mind staying for a while. Though I'm sure you'd tire of me sooner or later, and the children would find other interests." He turned his gaze outward again, into the dreary, fitting sky. "It'd be nice, though."

**Tifa: **

Tifa snorted. "Life favors the propagation of the species, Vincent, not happiness. If it didn't, the human race would die out forever." As she spoke, the rain thickened once again, becoming a downpour. "Just fits the day," Tifa remarked sourly. She shrugged. "They might," she said over the drumming rain, "but what good does it do me? And when did I get so selfish?" she suddenly wondered aloud. "God, I sound like some whiny bratty ingrate, fussing because I broke my favorite toy. And no one can fix it."  
**  
Vincent:**

He chuckled softly, "You're right in that it's not like you to be this way. But I can understand the reasoning behind it. I know it doesn't seem like enough, but it's more than some have."

He sighed, deciding to drop that subject quickly. "Everyone knows about you and Cloud, now. The others were pretty upset with him. As was I." The last part was added rather quietly. It opened up a new path for his words to take, and rather than let her ramble in her frustration or listen to dead air and rain, he plodded on.

"I think he started to come after you, but stopped himself for some reason. Everyone threw accusations at him... just so you know, Marlene did the worst. I hope it woke him up, in a way, but I doubt it did. He... resents me being here. I can't say I care what he thinks, but I hope that I wasn't the reason for the start of the argument earlier." He had politely tuned out the conversation upstairs, until the yelling had begun.

**Tifa: **

Tifa opened her mouth, then closed it again. No, she wouldn't do this to Vincent. But to lie to him instead? She might have known Cloud would have immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion about Vincent's presence. Damned infernal man! Her brows drew down as her lips thinned in irritation. God, she should have hit him when she had the chance!

"You were," she informed him shortly. "Cloud was just _so_ jealous that we'd had wild passionate sex on every stationary surface of the house and started screaming and frothing because you're better with your tongue than he is." She snorted wryly.

"God, Vincent." Brown eyes squeezed closed and she let out a short scream of frustration laced with ages old pain, hands gripping the edge of the bench. She supposed it was a good sign, that she was this angry instead of a weeping puddle of misery. But _shit_, sometimes a girl just gets _enough_ and something's got to give!  
**  
Vincent:**

He remained in the slumped position, but now stared at her with wide red eyes and cheeks that briefly matched before he cleared his throat quietly and looked back at the puddles of water.

"I see. I... doubt he put it quite that way, but he seems not to be the only one who gets that idea, in some way." He mildly resented the others thinking him such a predator, that they could have their friendships with her and anything he did must be for some ulterior motive. It wasn't their concern, anyway.

"I apologize for causing undue trouble between you both. My presence here seems to have made it more difficult to break things off in a civil way." Not that she wouldn't have hurt any less, but perhaps the screaming match could have been avoided. How would things progress now? Would Cloud even be there when they returned?

Vincent found himself hoping the man would just up and leave like before. But then, he himself would have to go soon, for a short time. Maybe if Cloud stayed, he would cool off in that period.

**Tifa:**

"I don't _care_ what they _think_ anymore, Vincent," Tifa declared hotly, wanting to pull _someone's_ hair out! "They _don't_, that's just the problem. They're all…egotistical…snobbish…_males_ that need a good butt-whipping once a month." _Gaia, Tifa!_ her brain clanged. _Calm down, girl, just calm down_. Boy, it'd been a _while_ since her blood pressure'd spiked so high. Tifa closed her mouth and took a _deep_ breath, praying for calm, trying to focus her thoughts.

Finally she said, "I'm sorry, Vincent. I have no right to take it out on you, I know that." Her teeth ground. "It's just their moronic…_stupidity_ grates on my nerves. And I think I'm finally tired of that too." She gazed at the soaked ground. "Don't apologize. You did nothing wrong. And civility wasn't even an option, anyway." She shrugged. "I don't care. Although if he stays, I wonder where he'll sleep? He can have the couch with the other two or sleep on the bar, whichever. The church is now the 'community pool', so unless he can grow gills, I doubt that's an option."

She sighed. "Even after all this, I don't want him to go. He's my friend, Vincent. I just don't want him to hurt me anymore." Tifa scuffed a bare toe in the mud. "For all his skill and supposed maturity, Cloud's still a boy." She snorted. "I've outgrown boys. They just don't appeal to me anymore. I'm tired of having to 'raise' them."  
**  
Vincent:**

He nodded, fully suppressing a sigh. He knew that, despite all her good intentions, holding onto a friendship with a man she'd once shared a lot more with would be very, very hard. Especially if he kept acting as she put it, as a boy. Maybe he should leave, he thought briefly. For longer than a day or two. He shook the notion quickly, he couldn't do that to her.

Even if Cloud stayed, he couldn't be counted on in a steady business. He'd more than proved that. And from what Tifa had told him, his bartending and managing skills were _worse_ than horrible. What bothered Vincent more than the idea of Cloud staying to continue fighting with Tifa, was how she was becoming. It reminded him of a much more vocal version of himself in times past, except that he had never taken his grief into action. He wanted nothing more for Tifa than for her to be happy, and remain the kind, optimistic person she'd always been, with a warm smile for all her friends.

"I can understand that much. You have plenty to worry about as it is." He turned his gaze to meet her eyes again, his expression earnest and sincere. "I'm willing to stay and keep performing my job and duties here, even if Cloud stays. But only if you want that. I don't want to make things more awkward than they will be. And he can have the guest room. I can sleep somewhere else."

He inclined his head slightly, deepening his stare during his next words. "But I want you to promise me something. If things don't work out well, you'll remain the person you've always been. Don't let him change you, Tifa. Or rather..." he trailed off for a brief moment while gathering the words.

"Don't let the pain change who you are. Don't ever be as jaded as-" Well, _that_ had come out unexpectedly. He finished in almost a whisper as he again looked to the sky, chewing the inside of his right cheek afterward, "- as me."

**Tifa: **

_How did he do it_, she wondered silently. How did he turn her from a snarling fit of irritation to a sympathetic puddle in the space of a breath? _By the Planet, Vincent_. It was his understanding, she thought belatedly, biting her lower lip and feeling her nose prickle from the tears that flooded her eyes. Tifa returned his intent gaze, nodding mutely. At his broken whisper, her heart ached and she wanted to bawl with the pain and suffering they'd both undergone in their lifetimes.

"Vincent," she said softly, curling an arm beneath his and pulling her feet beneath her. "I don't want you to go," she fiercely replied. "The kids don't want you to go. Awkward…will just have to come and go," she said with an exasperated sigh, resting her cheek on his shoulder. _Gods_, but she relished touch. Brown eyes closed.

"And I promise," she whispered fervently. "I didn't mean to be so snarky. It was either that or put my hand through a wall, which would result in a broken wrist. It's just so…_irritating_." Her voice gained a fraction more strength, though was still quiet and even.

"You might be jaded, Vincent," she said, gazing up at him with wide eyes, "but you're a good friend. And a good listener. And a good man, even though you don't believe it," she added, forestalling further arguments. "And that's all that matters to me."

**Vincent:**

It didn't make a lot of sense, but smiles came easier when they were like this, as one came now. She did that, maybe with everyone she knew. Her head on his shoulder and her arm locked around his had begun to feel like a natural thing, comforting and less intrusive than it had been weeks ago. On rare occasions, he was able to return affectionate gestures, in the knowledge that they were neither expected nor demanded, but taken with contentment and care. He chose to do so now, taking his arm gently out of her grasp and placing it over her shoulders. She had to be chilled; he noted the goose-bumps along her arms.

So he pulled her just a little closer as he continued to watch the fast moving wisps of clouds beneath the heavier stratus formations that overcast the sky. The morning was dull, the sun hidden, but it seemed fitting, meant to inspire appreciation for the warmth in one's life. "As long as you feel that way, I'll hang around."

**Tifa: **

Tifa all but snuggled against him, craving the quiet comfort he freely offered. She _trusted_ Vincent. Her faith in him was implicit; he'd never given her reason to doubt it. He just wasn't that kind of man. Why, oh _why_ couldn't the others _see_ that? To their eyes, he was merely a shell which housed secrets, pain and chaos. Literally. _Blind idiots_, she thought darkly, nostrils flaring with her exhaled breath.

"Good," she answered, settling _that_. "I don't know what we'll do about sleeping arrangements; maybe Marlene can sleep with me and Cloud and Denzel have the other room. You're entitled to the guest room, Vincent. Cloud can just make due."

They sat thus for a long while, simply enjoying the other's company and finally the rain ceased enough for Tifa to say, "We better go home, Vincent. While it's not raining so hard. I know they'll be worried."

**Vincent:**

A silent nod to agree with her, then Vincent stood and removed the black button-up he wore over the white wife-beater beneath. Though the walk wasn't terribly long, it was still several blocks and the long sleeves of the shirt would offer her some minor protection from the chill of the breeze and the light mist. Knowing she would not accept immediately, he skipped any negotiations by simply laying it over her shoulders, then putting a hand on the middle of her back to usher her into walking beside him. He'd always been taught to be a gentleman, and that any lady, friend or more, deserved to be treated as such, though he had drawn his own conclusions that women were often equally or more capable at handling any given job or situation than men.

It was simply in him to treat Tifa as a lady, now that he was moderately comfortable around her and knew - more or less - what she was comfortable with and what she might truly object to. During the walk back, he tried not to be aware of his pale skin barely contrasting with his shirt, or how his left arm was no longer covered. The cool, damp weather didn't bother him, he was accustomed to many climates, but the exposure whittled at his conscious mind just enough to annoy him.

**Tifa: **

Tifa started a bit as she felt the warm fabric settle over her shoulders; the nuance was a bit unfamiliar, at least for her. But she reverently respected Vincent's manners and courtly ways, which always made a strange tingle start somewhere around her ankles and worm its way up to her stomach, where it settled and just twisted and turned all over, always making her flush something terrible. She'd never been treated as a lady, not even by her father and teacher. She'd always romped and cavorted with the boys, even after arriving in Midgar. But these little things he did, such as offering his shirt, allowing her to precede him from room to room, she'd even caught him _rising from his chair_ when she came into the office occasionally, made her feel somewhat special, as Vincent was the _only_ male on the planet to do so.

Falling into step beside him, she slid her arms into the long sleeves, wrapping the shirt around her, hands tucked under her arms and she burrowed into it, breathing in the clean scent of faint cologne and Vincent himself. _Wonderful_. But she resolutely pulled her wallowing brain away from such thoughts as they arrived back home and, yet again, Vincent reached for the door before she could even lift her hand.

Everyone present looked up as she walked inside. Barret, Nanaki and Cid. Cid's mouth opened but he apparently thought better of it, scratching the back of his head and hurriedly looking at the floor. The other two were unreadable. Tifa sighed and paused, still huddled in Vincent's shirt.

"I'm sorry, guys," she said, pushing a damp lock of hair behind an ear. "I'm sorry you had to witness this whole mess. I didn't want it to be this way, but now you know."

**Vincent:**

Barret was the first to speak, following a sigh so heavy that his broad shoulders sank with the motion, "Tif, you don't gotta apologize. We're the ones' should be doin' that. I been gone so much just trying to get things goin' again, an' here I left you with too much on your plate. Whatever's happened between you and Spike is your business, but we're here for you either way. An' for that dumbass, though it took a helluva lotta willpower not to whoop his ass."

Marlene, eyes still puffy but thankfully void of tears, nodded at his side and ran over to wrap her arms around Tifa's hips. Vincent only stood slightly behind her and to her left, slipping into the role of silent observer again. He was relieved that Cloud wasn't with the others, and that they weren't bursting at the seams with questions.

Cid followed Barrett's small speech with his own version, scuffing the heel of a grubby boot against the floor out of nervous habit. "He's right. I'm sorry too, girl. Cloud's just an ass sometimes and we _all_ know that, but we sorta left you high and dry, too. So much for friendly support, eh?" He then turned a tentative lop-sided grin on her, brows furrowed and drawn upward in gently chastising look, "But ya know, ya _could_ have told us all sooner. If nothin' else, we'd have rounded the prodigal up for ya."

Nanaki added his own thoughts on the matter quietly, sitting on his haunches with Denzel sitting on the floor next to him. "I think what we're all trying to say is that the two of you can work out your problems, and we'll be here for you in whatever ways we can be."

For the moment, Vincent was more than content to be ignored.

**Tifa: **

Tifa bent and embraced the little girl, hugging her tightly. Marlene squeezed back, sniffling into Tifa's hair. Tifa gave Cid a smile, saying, "Thanks, but if he didn't come home on his own, then there was no point." She picked Marlene up, holding the little one close and looked at Barret.

"It's not your fault, Barret; you're doing what's right. No one can blame you for that, least of all me." She went to the bar, set Marlene on it and ruffled Red's ears fondly. "Thanks," she whispered to the cat, who nodded sagely in response.

Passing out heartfelt hugs all 'round, she wiggled out of Vincent's shirt and returned it, heading upstairs to shower and change. There were still chores and duties to be done, no matter the drama.

She met Cloud at her bedroom door and immediately noticed the duffel in his hand. "Cloud," she began, but he cut her off.

"No, Tifa," he said, closing the door behind him. "Don't even say anything." He sighed heavily. "I know where I stand now. The others made that pretty clear after you ran out." Tifa's heart ached, inexplicably. He silenced her yet again. "Don't worry about the business; I'll take care of it later, eventually, who the fuck knows?" He shook his head. "I'm not needed here. You have Vincent." His teeth grated at the mention of the other man's name. "I just hope to Shiva he can give you what I didn't, Tifa, if only to make you happy. Apparently I'm not the man to do that anymore."

He didn't look at her as he brushed past, heading downstairs and leaving a shocked, chilled Tifa standing in the hallway, watching his silhouette until she heard the front door close sharply behind him.

Minutes passed. He'd left again. This time permanently.

_Gaia, what do I do?_ But what had she expected? Cloud to suddenly see the error of his ways and repent on the spot? No, absurd. He couldn't.

Numb, unfeeling, Tifa just went into her bedroom and very quietly lay down on the bed, curled on her side. She gazed unseeing at the window for a very long time, unmoving and cold. If only she hadn't lost her temper… If only she'd been gentler… If only she'd tried to understand a little more…_If only…_

_To be continued…_


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** **_Please_** see the notation in the first chapter.

**Disclaimer: **We, in no way whatsoever, own anything of and pertaining to the _Final Fantasy VII _or _Advent Children_ works; that right belongs to other fortunate souls. We also reap no monetary benefits from this exercise in literary creativity.

_**Chapter Seven: **_

**Vincent:**

Once Tifa had left the room after returning his shirt, all eyes were on Vincent. He let a moment of silence pass, noting the tension. Not the sort of angry tension that everyone had directed at Cloud, nor the wary tension he usually faced. Not even the shocked vibe that accompanied his first venture downstairs once everyone had arrived. No, this was the kind of tension that came with a certain _knowing_ of something that no one wanted to come out and say, only convey with certain meaningful looks and glances. Even the children had joined in, though he thought perhaps for more innocent guesses.

With a soft, annoyed sigh, Vincent shrugged back into his shirt. "It's not what you think, and yes, I _know_ what you think." Cid raised his hands in a non-threatening gesture, both brows raised in a look of pure doubt. "Whatever you say, Sunshine."

Barrett leveled a hard stare at Valentine and was about to say something, when heavy boots stomped down the stairs and caught everyone's attention. With his duffel slung over one shoulder, Cloud made for the door, glimpse briefly by the group as he passed the open doorway. Denzel stood quickly and ran to him. Everyone else stayed where they were, and the tension seemed now a palpable thing.

"Cloud! Wait! You... you just got here! You can't leave..." It was Denzel's voice, pleading fading into near heart-broken disappointment near the end. Nothing from Cloud for a moment, before a muttered, "I'm sorry," and the slam of the door.

Vincent sighed and stared at the floor as he listened to the boy call out again, opening the door. A moment later, it slammed again, and sneakers thudded hard against the stair as Denzel ran to his room. Silence filled the air again, and no pairs of eyes met. Barrett moved to sit at the bar with Marlene, stroking her hair affectionately. Nanaki lay on his belly, front paws crossed as he looked down at them thoughtfully.

Cid finally broke the silence with a frustrated, "Well, _fuck_," before pulling out his cigarettes and sitting at the bar as well, launching into a ramble on how unhealthy all this damned stress was for everyone, him especially. Vincent cast his gaze upward for a moment. Tifa was up there, crying, or maybe staring numbly at a wall. How had she taken it? He couldn't bring himself to go to her, when he knew this was something she needed to process and digest on her own.

Finally he walked behind the bar and began clearing away the plates leftover from a breakfast that had started so well and ended so badly. Yet another sigh, followed by quiet, but no doubt welcomed words, "Well, it's early, but does anyone want a drink?"

**Tifa:**

Whiskey was called for all 'round, save for Red and Marlene. Which left the three men to get ripped drunk. Which was exactly where Cid was headed, smokes and all. Nanaki merely kept his silence and pose. No one really had anything left to say. Upstairs, Tifa lay nearly comatose on her bed, until she heard the door across the hall slam and broken hearted sobbing permeating through the wood. That triggered her to move and she rose, shrugging into dry clothes before heading to the kids room. Inside lay Denzel, wailing into his pillow as if his very world had just vanished. And in a very real sense, it just had.

Tifa's own heartache was immediately placed aside as she sank down and gathered the little boy in her arms, smoothing his hair and rocking back and forth. Hot tears soaked her shirt as he cried against her, small arms latched around her for dear life. Her own splashed his clean soft hair as they cried together, weeping their hurt and misery in silence, broken only by small hiccupping sobs. Tifa held Denzel tightly, so wishing she could take this pain and make it her own. He didn't need to bear this cross. She was stronger; she would ease it for him.

"Denzel," she whispered for his ears alone, still rocking back and forth, "it's okay, baby. It'll be all right. You'll see." He didn't answer, but that was all right; words of comfort were meant to be taken quietly. Tifa rocked, petted and stroked, soothing his tattered heart and trying to ease him through the loss of yet another part of his life. She began to hum quietly, a soft slow lullaby her mother used to sing long ago, the words gentle and sweet, the melody calm and soothing, designed to lull and caress frazzled nerves and quiet young broken hearts.

He hiccupped and sniffled. "He left us again, Tifa," he choked, wiping his eyes with a small fist. "He didn't even say goodbye!" Denzel buried his face in her shirt again. "I don't want him to go!" He began to cry again and Tifa choked down her own sobs, unable to even form an answer to comfort the distraught little boy.

**Vincent:**

It was the third round of whiskey for himself. The fourth for Cid, the fifth for Barrett. Gaia, but it took a whole bottle to get the big guy tipsy. He didn't truly know his own limit, given the changes in his body since the last time he'd gotten drunk as a Turk. But his senses were dulled a little, and he found Cid's prattle far less annoying. Unwilling to get completely hammered in front of Marlene, Barrett finally pushed his glass back and gestured that he was done, at the same time Cid motioned for Vincent to pour him another.

He did, and one for himself as well. "Shit, Vinny, never figured you fer a drinkin' man. Always so damn broody. Hell, I guess anyone would drink after _that_ lil' mess though. I'm surprised Fluffy there ain't sipping vodka from a bowl, too."

The large, intelligent cat only gave a tilt of his head with a look that must have been the feline equivalent of "Yeah. Right," and laid his head on his paws. Vincent only chuckled, but it was, for the most part, mirthless. He could hear them upstairs. Crying and consoling, then crying some more. Sometimes he hated his preternatural senses. Normally he could tune things out when he wished, but for some reason the sobs, sniffles and gasps bore into his brain and stuck there, holding his attention and driving him to down shot after shot of sharp amber poison. He stopped at number five and set the bottle by Cid, who took it with a grin as Vincent walked toward the door leading to the hall and the stair.

"You go ahead, Valentine. S'what yer s'posed to do, right? Fill in the holes that jackass left behind..." Cid started mumbling to himself after that, the liquor having long ago gotten to his brain. Vincent ignored it and ascended silently to the second floor. He waited for a long moment outside the door to the kids' room, unsure of what to say. He knocked, waited a few seconds, then asked softly through the door.

"Are you both alright?" He knew the answer already, but simply lacked a better way to show his concern.

**Tifa:**

Tifa looked up at the question, seeing the familiar outline of long black hair through the slightly open door; she hadn't closed it completely when she came into the kids room. She hurriedly wiped the streaming tears from her cheeks with one hand, the other never loosening its hold on the distraught little boy. Denzel didn't seem to hear; he remained burrowed against her.

Tifa blinked back further salty drops and called quietly, "It's okay, Vincent. Come in." She gave him a tentative, sad smile as he did so and slid around a bit so he could sit beside them. She leaned her cheek back on the top of Denzel's hair and sighed quietly.

"We will be, I think. Hopefully. One day." Knowing she didn't believe it, brown eyes closed as fresh tears again slid from black lashes.

**Vincent:**

Sympathy danced dark in red eyes, turning them a softer russet. One day. But not today. He looked from her to the boy she held. It seemed worse somehow, for children to be hurt this way. He placed his right hand on Denzel's back, speaking in the quiet, wizened tone of one having known the pain of loss many times over.

"Cloud... despite his many qualities, still has more questions than he knows what to do with. It isn't anything you've done, or not done. All his problems are within himself, and have always been there. It doesn't mean he doesn't care about you."

His eyes met Tifa's again. He felt wrong, defending a man he himself was angry with. But it was the right thing to do. Cloud wasn't a bad person... just lost.

**Tifa:**

A glassy blue eye appeared from beneath tousled sandy hair as Denzel turned his head partway around to peek at Vincent. He sniffled, rubbing at his nose with a small fist. Spiky lashes blinked over and over again as the little boy merely stared at the other man, fist tucked under his chin as he burrowed against Tifa. He finally mustered the words and hiccupped, "H-He didn't h-have to _leave_, t-though." Fresh tears leaked from those blue eyes. "I didn't w-want him t-to go again!"

Denzel's eyes squeezed closed and he began to cry again, this time silently. Tifa, her tears all but spent, echoed his sniffle and held him close, letting him cry his hurt and bewilderment as he would. She looked helplessly at Vincent, truly not knowing how to stem the boy's pain this time.

All the times before, Denzel had clung to the hope that someday Cloud would return for good and be the father the boy so wished he could have. But now, Cloud had ripped those tender dreams in twain and left them to flutter in the broken pieces of Denzel's young heart. Tifa sighed. _It wasn't fair._

**Vincent:**

"Sometimes..." came the slow beginning of softer words, "We can't hold on too tightly to the people we love or look up to. We just have to care for them and appreciate them while they're here, and let them go when they're ready to leave. That's not to say it doesn't hurt to let go." His eyes stayed on some random thread in the worn coverings of the bed for a time, though he looked at the boy, then the woman sitting by him as he finished his thought.

"We know you'll miss Cloud. We know how much he means to you. But Tifa is still here for you, Denzel. And so am I." Red eyes met brown in a brief, unsure look before he hesitantly continued. "And neither of us is leaving for a long, long time."

He wasn't absolutely sure he could keep that promise, or even if it would help. But he was fairly certain that he would be able to follow through, in some way or another. His hand left the boy's back to gently ruffle the dusky bangs that always seemed to get down into Denzel's eyes. It was the most he could do; there was no smile to offer. He hoped what he had said might help, but knew all too well the words might seem as hollow to the boy as they felt to himself.

**Tifa:**

Denzel looked back at the dark haired man, gnawing uncertainly on his knuckle. He blinked back tears as he listened and sniffled every now and again. He chewed on his lower lip, staring at his moist hand, then looked back to Vincent.

"You promise?" he asked hesitantly, needing some sort of reassurance to know his world wasn't completely shattered beyond repair. Tifa's heart ached as she gazed at Vincent and heard Denzel's heartfelt plea. _Unfair, to ask such, oh, Denzel_. But she knew how he felt, tentatively reaching for salvation that might or might not remain beyond the space of a breath. Tifa's lower lip minutely trembled but she bit it to still the quaver.

_Don't promise, please…_ she silently prayed. _For I can't bear another heartache like this…_

**Vincent:**

He inhaled deeply, staring for a second into Tifa's eyes, not enough to visibly take his attention from the boy, but more than enough to see the silent plea those dark eyes held. He placed his hand on Denzel's shoulder. Could he say it, after Cloud had left like that? He thought for a moment, enough that Denzel seemed to take it as a negative, tearing up again.

_Yes._ Why? _Because unlike Cloud, I keep my promises_. Can you keep this one? "Though I will have to go from time to time, it will never be for very long. So... yes. I promise." The words seemed to echo in his mind, as if some invisible steel trap had snapped shut around him, and would hold him to his word.

_Well_, he thought, _what of it? I have nowhere else to go. And no one to go to. I can stay... if I can keep the devils sated._ It was a thought he had to push aside for the time being.

**Tifa:**

It seemed the world took a breath at Vincent's quiet acquiescence. The effect upon Denzel was no more than Tifa had hoped for, although she'd been desperately praying to whatever gods still listening he would not utter those words. But the boy's sad smile crept across his tear-streaked face and he gazed at the man with hope born of a child's innocence. He lifted his head from Tifa's chest and shook his head to clear his face of the rebellious locks and his hesitant smile curved into a genuine grin as he nodded.

Tifa released him as he wiggled from her lap and rose to his knees on the mattress, throwing small arms around Vincent, squeezing him tight and finally releasing after a long moment. Denzel slid to the floor, sniffling still and wiped his nose on his hand.

"Imma go find Marlene now, I guess," he said, a bit of his good nature returning. He gave them a lopsided grin and shuffled out the door, partly closing it behind him as he thumped downstairs.

After Denzel vanished, Tifa immediately turned to Vincent and said, brown eyes wide, "Vincent, you didn't have to do that. I don't want you to think you _have_ to remain here, if you don't want to." She twisted her hands in her lap, biting on her lower lip.

**Vincent:**

He watched the child go, and kept his eyes on the door. He knew what she was going to say, even before she did indeed say it. He replied as came naturally, quietly as always. "I want to." And that was that. Not that he'd love to, or felt he had to. But he _wanted_ to, would like to stay. The stability, the routine here had settled unease in him beyond love's old wounds. It had given him a purpose, not only in a job to perform, which he mildly enjoyed, but in people to protect... and care for.

Crimson eyes shifted to look at the floor a moment. He did care for them. For the children... for Tifa. He truly had no one and no other place to be, but he realized then that if he had, he might still wish to stay here, where he found a small purpose, and a balm to the loneliness inside him.

**Tifa:**

Impulsively, Tifa reached out and grabbed both Vincent's hands in hers, fingers almost painfully tight. But she had nothing else to say. The words lumped in her throat, clogging them from escaping. She gazed at the bedspread beneath them and nodded, finally managing to croak, "All right." More than anything, she didn't want Vincent to feel that he had to 'replace' Cloud in any way. There was no _replacement_ needed. On some level, she knew Vincent understood that and accepted it; truly, he'd done more for them in such a short space of time than Cloud had done in months.

Her eyes moved to their joined fingers, her knuckles white ringed with her grip and a sharp stinging in her right hand made her gasp in sudden pain. Unthinking, she'd gripped the talons of Vincent's left hand a bit too hard and sliced a thin gash in her palm. It wasn't serious, just a bit uncomfortable. Opening her hands, she mumbled dumbly, "Gaia, Vincent, I'm sorry…I didn't mean to…"

**Vincent:**

As she pulled back, he visibly winced at the thin line of red welling in tiny dots along her palm. Well, it was as visible as any of his emotions ever were, the slightest downward curve of his lips and the equally minute furrowing of his brow. His gauntlet he pulled back to rest on his thigh as he took her right hand in his, inspecting the cut briefly. Damned talons of his. To her words he simply shook his head, "No apology necessary. You were the one who got cut." A pang of guilt harassed his thoughts as he let go of her hand. Self consciously, he turned to face the room rather than her, right hand resting on his left arm.

"I should have already removed the sharper digits of this thing, but I suppose I've gotten rather used to having it like this..." his words trailed off. They usually did, when he talked about anything that made him seem or feel less than human.

**Tifa:**

Tifa's lips thinned in minute exasperation as Vincent withdrew from her. But there was naught she could do, save doctor her hand. Without a further word, she did so, heading to the bathroom to clean her palm and place a thin bandage over the wider part of the gash.

_We'll just go on, Tifa,_ her conscience informed her quietly. _We'll just go on._ Pausing at the kids' door, she gave Vincent a warm smile and beckoned him to follow if he wished and headed back downstairs where, to her delight, Denzel and Marlene had bolted for the backyard and were playing in their clubhouse. At the moment, Nanaki and Barret were chasing them around the small enclosure; their yells and shrieks were clearly audible from the barroom.

Cid gave Tifa a welcoming grin and a nod, extinguishing his seventh cigarette and chased it with the last of his whiskey. Tifa cocked a brow at him. "Wasn't it you that said all that stress wasn't good for the health? And here you are, chain smoking and swilling booze like a hound, Cid."

The captain shrugged and propped elbows on the counter. "Gotta have some bad habits, Tif," he winked back.

**Vincent:**

Good company seemed to do alright for filling in the void left by Cloud in the children's lives, and in Tifa's, as far as Vincent could tell. He was relieved that Cid, Nanaki and Barrett were hanging around for a bit. Barrett stated that he was back for a couple of weeks, Cid for several days or "at least until the ol' bitch comes a' callin'." Nanaki would stay as long as Cid would.

So it was, that after putting it off for a couple of days to be sure things were relatively calm, Vincent donned the vermilion cloak and bandanna once more, with black leather covering his thin yet corded frame beneath. It was one o'clock in the a.m, and he'd managed to get Cid to cover the bar during the last hour while he readied himself and his weapons.

The children had been put to bed with no end of whining at his departure, and had rested only after his absolute swearing to return, crossed-heart and hoping to die, even. He buckled his gunbelt again for the first time in weeks, taking a small amount of comfort in the familiar feel of it, settled about his hips. Though it was an outing to give release to his inner demons - quite literally - one could never know when a big gun and exploding rounds might come in handy in the wilderness.

He planned to head south, to the base of the mountains that separated one part of the continent from the other. There were plenty of things lurking in those hills and the peaks beyond for him to kill in his bloodlust, or rather, _theirs_.

Heading downstairs in full travel garb, he peeked into the barroom, leaning on the door frame and waiting for Tifa to notice, as she always did. He wasn't sure why, but he felt inclined to say goodbye, though he wouldn't be gone long and would normally have just left.

**Tifa:**

Finally getting a breath from running patrons out the front doors, as it _was_ closing time, Tifa put down her serving tray and pushed stray hair from her face. But it was a happy sigh that left her lips; tonight had been another good, busy night. Even though _Cid_ had run the bar for the last hour tonight, his antics and grumbled comments had only made everyone laugh good-naturedly. Tifa left him to cleaning glasses and turned to collect the rest of the dishes and spied a familiar shadow leaning against the door frame.

Setting the tray on a passing table, she approached and smiled gently up at Vincent. "Heading out?" she asked, knowing it was redundant but having little else to say. She knew the kids didn't want him to leave; they'd expressed their disappointment most vocally, and Tifa had to admit, deep within her heart, that she felt the same. Before she could stop them, her hands drifted to the last buckle on the scarlet cape, adjusting it and straightening the leather strap.

"There," she heard herself say stupidly. Fingers caught in the red fabric; Tifa's cheeks colored with the wild desire to just throw arms around him and never let him go. Ever. How she'd come to depend on him in such a short time! But she forced the traitorous notion away and gave him a smile that trembled only a fraction, brown eyes not quite hiding the worry and longing inside. "Take care," she breathed shakily, not knowing what else to say.

**Vincent:**

A soft smile slanted his lips as he replied. "I will." His eyes darted to Cid and he lowered his voice, smile making the tiny change to a smirk, "Don't let him scare off too many regulars while I'm gone, alright?"

Cid was currently trying to clean the bar, red-faced and quietly cursing, obviously having sampled a few drinks himself to calm his frazzled nerves. Barrett now lounged in a chair near the main door, his dark face split in a massive yawn. Since he wasn't good with running the bar or waiting tables, he'd been content to play bouncer. Which, as most nights, consisted of doing absolutely nothing but looking bad-ass.

While those two had their attention on cleaning and dozing, and Nanaki was nowhere to be seen, Vincent took her arm gently and pulled her into the hall as his smile ghosted away. "Will you be ok while I'm gone?" He felt absolutely silly for asking, but couldn't help it, given the recent events. He was thankful her other friends were there, but still had a niggling feeling about leaving.

**Tifa:**

Tifa glanced over her shoulder at Cid and giggled. "Either he'll scare 'em to death or drink the place dry. Don't worry about him, he'll be fine. Shera phoned earlier today and asked about him. I think she might turn up in a day or so. Just to make him even more miserable."

Tifa blinked and followed as he pulled her out of the room and stared down at her intently. She returned the gaze with wide brown eyes. "…I'll be fine," she assured him with a less then heartfelt smile.

"Don't worry about me, Vincent," she told him, again straightening buckles motherly. Habit, that. _Any excuse to keep him at your fingertips, Tifa_, her brain scolded. _Stop being such a baby_. Silently grinding her teeth, she dropped her hands and forced a small chuckle. "I'll be _fine_," she reiterated. "Just…don't stay away too long," she couldn't help but finish lamely.

**Vincent:**

Allowing her to fiddle with the buckles as she would, he nodded. He couldn't help noticing the look in her eyes, the uncertainty... or maybe worry. He hadn't realized, until that moment, how much she'd really come to depend on him... how much she _liked_ having him there. It stirred something within him and caused another small smile.

"I won't be gone long, maybe two days at most. You take care as well." And with that, he placed his right hand on her shoulder, then rather awkwardly bent to hug her briefly.

**Tifa:**

Tifa nodded but blinked as Vincent put his hand on her shoulder, then pulled her into a rather haphazard embrace. It both startled and touched her. Not minding in the slightest, truly delighted he would do so, she put both arms around his neck and squeezed back, missing him already, damnit. A quiet sigh escaped before she let go then playfully pushed him towards the door.

"Then go, so you can get back," she teased, her smile this time genuine and fond. "That way I won't have to miss you for very long."

**Vincent:**

He nodded, red eyes smirking at her as he turned and exited quickly, brushing aside the warmth her words caused. Taking her words to heart, he walked into the street illuminated by the white and amber casts of light from lamp-posts. Fleet-footed and silent as a cat, Vincent disappeared into the night by way of dark alleys and roof-tops. He could feel the tremors in his chest now, his pulse jumping with the excitement of the beasts within. Their anticipation had been gnawing at him for days now, and when his teeth began to hurt, he knew he wouldn't be able to hold them back much longer.

Just outside of New Midgar, it started. He could feel his canines elongating, so much that he wouldn't have been able to speak without slurring. His back burned on either side of his spine. He growled his resolve, no... they couldn't be out so close to the city. He worked taut muscles to run faster, until they ached, then he pushed harder until the feral demons took over in their unnatural strength.

With speed unnatural to any human or mere beast, he was at his destination within a couple of hours, barely retaining any human awareness. It happened like that, when he waited so long. The longer he went, the less control he had over them when they were loosed. So now, just as twilight began showing at the eastern horizon, Chaos, the strongest of the four, tore through every last barrier, ripping a scream from his host for none to hear. Vincent fell to the ground in a fetal ball. The sickening sounds of bone cracking and reforming, of flesh being rent and the fabric of his shirt tearing added to the horror of choking gasps and panting as red irises faded to yellow, and finally wings unfurled from beneath the crimson of his cloak, chosen for hiding the blood that leaked in the beastly transformation.

The demon rose with a rumbling snarl, scenting prey nearby. The unfortunate fiends would never see it coming.

_To be continued…_


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** **_Please_** see the notation in the first chapter.

**Disclaimer: **We, in no way whatsoever, own anything of and pertaining to the _Final Fantasy VII _or _Advent Children_ works; that right belongs to other fortunate souls. We also reap no monetary benefits from this exercise in literary creativity.

_**Chapter Eight: **_

**Tifa:**

The morning of the second day of Vincent's absence dawned like any other. Tifa made breakfast for all, Barret took the kids for a jaunt about town, Nanaki dozed on the living room couch and Cid absently tinkered with a few little gadgets, lighted cigarette clamped between his teeth as he worked. Tifa merely puttered behind the bar, doing little needless things that really didn't need doing. Like organizing the silverware. For the sixth time. Or refolding the bar towels. Although she kept the coffee and snacks coming, Cid couldn't help but quirk a brow as she flitted back and forth.

Trading the wrench for screwdriver, he finally summoned enough balls to ask, "So, you miss him, I take it?"

Tifa paused, giving him a look, but shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose." She flushed and laughed. "It's that obvious, huh?"

Cid grinned. "A tad, yeah." He fiddled a bit more. "Well, Tif," he said, taking another swallow of lukewarm coffee, "the man had to leave, y'know. Just somethin' ya have to accept."

Tifa sighed and straightened glasses again. "I know, Cid. And I don't blame him for it." She chuckled. "We're enough to drive anyone off." He chortled. "'At's true." She refilled his coffee cup. "Besides, he'll be back. He promised me he would."

One of Cid's brows shot up as she prattled on. "And the kids wouldn't let him stay away. It's just so heartening to see how they've taken to him. I'm glad of it. Not just for their sakes, either. I mean, I know he's not the most _social_ person on the planet, but he _is_ a good man, Cid, even _you've_ got to admit that. I would think he's proven it time and time again."

Cid tried to interrupt. "Tifa-," but she went on, bustling behind the bar.

"Sure, he's got skeletons in his past. We all do, somewhere, and I can't imagine anyone judging him for it. Even though _he_ thinks he's responsible for every little sin in the last thirty years. Just makes me want to pull his hair out. Well," she blushed, "sometimes."

Cid shook his head, clearing his throat. "Tifa…"

But she sailed on, not hearing him. "I'm _so_ glad I ran into him when I went to talk to Aeris. Well," she amended, "_he_ snuck up on _me_, but that's beside the point." She returned to wiping the counter vigorously. "I just wish there was some way to help him, to get rid of those awful scars…"

Cid had heard enough; his ears were starting to flame. "_Tifa!_" he shouted, earning a scowl.

Tifa placed hands on her hips. "_What_, Cid?" she demanded.

The pilot blinked and sat back down. "Damnit, woman. I was talking about _Cloud_!"

**Vincent:**

Paler than usual, his clothes still sticky with gore, though thankfully none of it that noticeable, Vincent traipsed back into town, his demons sated for the time being. It left him weary and nauseated, but relieved in the sense that at least this time, a bed was waiting for him and a decent, _real_ meal whenever he needed it. His right hand still shook, his left clacked metal digits together. The rush from the feedings still lingered in him, and the nausea was born of disgust. He hurt all over, especially at his back, gums, and his left arm. It always hurt the worst.

Half expecting to be tackled, though dearly hoping not to be, he opened the side door leading into the living area of _Seventh Heaven_ and walked in, hearing only Cid and Tifa in the bar area once he shut it behind himself. He wanted to just go upstairs, have a shower and fall into bed, but he owed it to Tifa to let her know he was back. Thus, he walked into the barroom, knowing he looked like hell in a red cloak, and stated the obvious. "I'm back."

**Tifa:**

The blighted conversation having somewhat recovered from earlier, Tifa had only gaped at Cid for a long moment, then laughed it off, both she and the captain started at the new voice that wafted from the door. To his credit, Cid refrained from any smart-assed comments, mainly because Tifa was in slapping reach, but his eyes widened and both eyebrows lifted a good three inches. Tifa merely turned around, nearly giddy with relief despite herself and _stared_.

The contrast between the Vincent that had left and the man that'd returned was _startling_. Vincent looked as if he'd been slammed _through_ the ground, several times over. Tifa clenched a fist at her side to keep from running to him and _ordering_ him upstairs to rest, although she knew Vincent could take care of himself.

Cid recovered first. "Welcome back, Valentine," he drawled, crushing out the remnants of his smoke and leaning on the counter. "Ya look like shit, though." His slanted grin quirked. "Jus' thought I'd point it out." There was no animosity, merely a teasing banter in his voice.

Tifa shot him a dark look, but turned back to Vincent and smiled. "Welcome home, Vincent. We've missed you," she said, walking over and giving him a gentle brief squeeze. Arching a brow, she asked, "Nothing's broken? Or needs attending?" She giggled. "'Cause you really do look…rough, Vincent."

Unable to help herself, she took his right hand and attempted to lead him upstairs. "Come on, your clothes are on your bed and the kids are gone with Barret. So you can rest a bit."

More than a bit amused, Cid watched Tifa lead Vincent off and shook his head, lighting yet another smoke. "Lucky, lucky man," he drawled before returning to his tinkering.

**Vincent:**

Vincent only gave the pilot a flat stare. "Nice to see you, too," he replied, then added under his breath, "I feel rather like shit, as well." To Tifa he offered the remnants of a tired smile and shook his head, "No, I'm fine. But I think a shower and a nap are in order." He was relieved the children were away, though he knew they'd want to see him, he wasn't sure he could handle it right now. He had promised Denzel to play another game of those monster cards with him, and to take both kids to the park for ice cream as well, once he was back. He could only hope Tifa would stop them from collecting as soon as they got back.

He allowed her to tug him upstairs, where he picked up the first shirt and pair of pants he saw. He turned with the intention of going to the bathroom to shower, but the nausea had turned to dizziness and he had to take a moment to steady himself against a corner post of the bed. He sighed heavily and unclasped the cloak, letting it fall in a red pool on the floor. The bandanna followed it, then the gunbelt, laid carefully upon the bed.

Though Tifa was obviously concerned, he gently waved it off and walked slowly out of the room, having to stop now and then to stop the room from spinning, or at least slow it down. Perhaps the hot water would ease his aches, then he could just stumble back to bed without worrying over getting it filthy.

**Tifa:**

Concern did indeed write itself across Tifa's brow, but she refrained from offering any assistance. Obviously Vincent had things under control, although to _her_ it seemed the man was three beats from falling flat on his face. She remained stationary in the hall, ready to offer help if he did careen to the carpet, until Vincent disappeared into the bathroom, she hoped for a scalding shower. Doubtless he'd want to sleep as long as possible afterwards, so she made a mental note to keep the kids downstairs until he'd had decent rest.

Tifa ventured into his room on quiet feet and hung the gunbelt on the stand next to the dresser. She methodically turned down the covers and closed the curtains, gathering the dirt and worse-stained cloak from the floor to deposit in the laundry. Before leaving, she switched on the lamp and turned off the overhead light, providing cool dimness for Vincent's after shower respite.

Heading downstairs, she swung into the laundry room and deposited the vermillion cape with the other clothes and returned to the bar, just in time to see Cid's wry look. Giving him a familiar glower, she quirked a smile. "What?"

The pilot shrugged a shoulder, shifting his cigarette from one side of his mouth to the other without utilizing a finger, truly a skill. "Nuthin'," he drawled. "Jus' 'at it beats me all t' hell, the way you _mother_ that man, Tif. He's not _helpless_. Far from it, actually." Cid's smirk widened at her self-conscious blush. But he was considerably amused more at her bristling defense.

"Oh, shush," she said, swatting him with a damp bar towel. "It's not like I haven't mothered _you_ before, or anyone else!"

Another of Cid's shoulders lifted in an offhand shrug. "'At's true 'nuff." He tinkered a bit more with his gadgets. "Jus' boggles me how Sunshine actually _lets_ ya, tho'."

**Vincent:**

He leaned into the spray with both hands on the tiled wall, head bowed and eyes closed, only moving to wash himself when the heat seeped into his bones and eased the ache in his muscles. Once clean - and only when the hot water was turning lukewarm - he exited the shower, dried off with a half-assed effort, draped the towel around his waist and traipsed into his bedroom to collapse upon the bed. He was unconscious within seconds, and soon haunted by dreams of snarling beasts and rending flesh, all through his own eyes, and with his own hands.

**Tifa:**

The wandering trio returned about an hour later and Tifa shooed the hyperactive, thanks to Barret and his sweet tooth, children outside to play. The big man sighed onto a bar stool and gave Cid a "nudge" which almost knocked the pilot from his own.

"Watch where yer placing them tree trunks ya call elbows, klutz!" Cid griped and lit another cigarette. "Shit, Barret." He glowered and fell back to muttering as Tifa giggled covertly and automatically placed a glass of iced tea before the black man.

"Have fun in town?" she inquired sweetly, absently wiping glasses in preparation for the night's business.

Barret groaned mockingly. "Somewhat. I don't remember kids being that _enthusiastic_," he complained.

Tifa giggled again. "And just think," she said, taking on an expression of fond foretelling, "someday soon you'll be able to chase all that energy all the time." She laughed outright as Barret only groaned and shifted around on the stool, complaining about getting old. Cid just snorted and rolled his eyes, mumbling something about "whiny black folk".

Tifa, her work done in the kitchen, meandered outside and plunked down in the backyard, smiling fondly at Nanaki as he padded beside her. The large intelligent cat and the woman watched the children play whilst chatting amiably.

A few hours later, the kids whined at having to do homework; Barret being easily swayed out of such, but Tifa was firm and set her foot down. Lessons continued in relative quiet after _that_ little lecture. Even the _men_ were cowed into another room.

The afternoon waned and Tifa, with Cid's surprising help, served supper and left the men to clean up before the bar opened. She hustled the kids upstairs and into bed, wondering if she should peek in and check up on Vincent. He'd been asleep the day long. Well, she supposed he needed it, but the maternal side of her couldn't help but rap a quiet knuckle on the door and, barring an answer, open it a fraction, which availed her none.

Lips set, she tiptoed inside and, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, finally made out the form sprawled atop the bed. Ah, still asleep. But Gaia, she was glad he was home. A smile creased her lips as she gave in the indulgence to lean over and press a gentle kiss to his cheek, smoothing a stray lock of long raven hair from his forehead.

**Vincent:**

The slightest twitch signaled his sudden wakefulness as red eyes opened and adjusted immediately to the darkness of the room, settling on her and remaining there. He was thankful for the darkness, partially because it hid some of his surprise, but mostly because he was barely covered in even the most private places and after the last time, he had no wish for her to see even his chest. It was her maternal nature, he guessed, that caused her to enter his room. How long had he been asleep?

Light no longer shone around the edges of the curtains. He didn't sit up, but lay there watching her watch him. His lips parted, but his throat was so dry that it took a moment to form hoarse words. "How long have I slept?" Still no clock in his room, damnit. Would need to fix that soon.

**Tifa:**

"Almost eight," she answered quietly. "About twenty till, I think." Tifa dropped to her knees beside the bed, propping her chin on her hand. The darkness was comforting, in a way. Quiet and cool. The notion that Vincent might be self conscious about her presence didn't cross her mind. She knew his body was scarred, of course, but that's simply the way it was. She held no judgment about it.

Without thinking, she reached for and took his right hand, lacing their fingers as she smiled. "Have a good nap?" Her smile grew lopsided. "Your snoring certainly shook the ceiling downstairs," she teased with a twinkle.

**Vincent:**

In the darkness, Vincent actually felt himself blushing a little. He _snored_? News to him. He shifted enough to realized his body still felt like he was made of lead and it was impossible to move from the comfort of the sheets and soft mattress, but he was thankful to note the aching and soreness was absent. With a muted groan he closed his eyes, chuckling softly.

"I did, and I apologize. I didn't really know I snored..." One would think a certain feline roommate would have told him as much during their adventures. To add to that, he felt dampness on his pillow that could only have been drool.

Dear Gaia, but he _had_ slept soundly and no doubt looking like a silly fool. At least she'd waited until dark to check in on him... hadn't she? He only hoped she hadn't peeked in earlier. He figured after a moment that she hadn't, else she probably wouldn't be in the room with him now, given his state of undress.

**Tifa:**

Tifa blinked, then giggled nearly uncontrollably. Unable to contain her mirth, her forehead dropped to the mattress with her snickers. "Vincent!" she managed to croak between guffaws, "I was _teasing_, you lout!" She inhaled a breath, only to giggle again. "You didn't _snore_, good grief." She thumped his bicep for emphasis. "You need to lighten up a bit, Valentine," she advised him sagely, although grinning like a loon.

She touched the lamp on the bedside table, the bulb illuminating to the lowest setting, flooding the room with soft golden light. Brown eyes twinkled merrily. _How_ she'd missed him in just two days! But her smile was full force and she chuckled wickedly again at the _complete_ disarray of those dark thick locks as Vincent sat up a bit.

"Vincent," she said, pursing her lips, "did you even _brush_ that mop before you went to bed?" He didn't need to answer. "_Men_," she huffed in exasperation, getting up and rummaging for a brush on his dresser. "Come on," she said, returning to the bedside and prodding him a bit. "Scoot up so I can fix it."

**Vincent:**

He could only blink at her, until she turned the light on. He was relieved that she was joking, but considered it a fairly mean joke. When the room was illuminated, however, all thoughts went immediately to his modesty. Self-consciousness was a more correct term, something that bordered on phobic. Hastily he made sure the towel still covered all essentials, though to tighten it he'd have to stand up, and was not about to do _that_.

Hunched and staring at his lap, arms folded again his abdomen, he shifted to the side a bit and sat obediently, making room for her to do what she would, though he muttered a rather sulking, "This isn't necessary." His toes wiggled their way beneath the sheet, followed by his legs until he could pull it over his lap. He hoped that mane of hair covered the vertical scars that ran parallel to his spine, branching out at the top.

**Tifa:**

Tifa harrumphed to the grump in his voice, poking his shoulder with the brush. "Oh, stop being such a baby. _Denzel_ doesn't put up this much of a fuss." She maneuvered atop the mattress, kneeling behind him and resolutely gathered the rebellious mass of darkness in both hands. But she nearly hissed a breath at the discovery of yet _more_ scars decorating that pale, pale flesh.

Unable to beat the ever-loving _shit_ out of that damned deranged scientist, Tifa settled for merely grinding her teeth and going rigid. Albeit that _those_ weren't actually a byproduct of Hojo's personal experimentations. Had she known, Tifa would have justified that that maniac was responsible, therefore it was _still_ his fault. She didn't make a comment, however, just began to slowly run the brush through Vincent's long hair, taking care not to snag it on any tangles or knots. She began to hum softly as she worked, making sure to work the bristles through every strand and every inch of his scalp.

After a few minutes, she let out a small sigh. "Vincent," she quietly implored, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze, "_will_ you relax? I'm not going to hurt you." She drew the brush the length of his hair, over and over. "I would never."

**Vincent:**

_Not physically_, his mind added instantly. It was his instinct to be mistrustful. But he knew in his heart she would never intentionally do anything to hurt him, in either the physical sense or especially emotionally. He trusted no one else like he had come to trust her, though he still withheld much, and always would. It bothered him in a sense, that he did trust her, for it meant that she had the ability to do what very few people could. She _could_ hurt him.

He heard the hissing intake of breath, knew why her motions were tense for a moment. He was glad she didn't say anything, asked no questions this time. That made him feel a little better, even if he still felt so self-conscious. He stopped himself from apologizing, since she seemed to hate it when he did that unnecessarily, and with firm resolve un-tensed his muscles. He still slouched, but not in the rigid, intentional manner by way of almost curling into the fetal position.

The soft bristles of the brush combined with Tifa's fingers combing through his hair was relaxing, once he allowed it to be. "I know," he answered with a sigh, "I'm just... not use to anyone doing this."

**Tifa:**

"I know," Tifa answered softly, still intent on her task. "But you're _family_ now, Vincent. It's okay to lean on us when you need to." She couldn't help the fond smile. "Gaia knows I do it to you."

The brush strokes turned soft and languid as Tifa thoroughly enjoyed the sensations of playing in all that amazing hair, like dark water flowing over her hands. The man truly had a gorgeous mane, she thought enviously. Eventually she lay the brush aside and slipped her arms around him, letting all that hair spill over her arms, offering silent comfort.

"Well," she whispered, chin resting on his shoulder, "_get_ used to it, Mr. Grumpy."

**Vincent:**

He placed his right hand over hers, silently contemplating the feel of her embrace. It was affectionate, intimate without being sexual or intrusive. He liked that about her, that she could do that. She pushed at his borders, little by little - sometimes a lot - until he conceded and they gave way, allowing her closer. It was alright, though. Tifa genuinely cared, to whatever degree, and that justified her exclusive pass into his personal space. He tilted his head just enough catch her eye, crimson meeting chocolate with a small smile. She was closer than he expected, and his cheek brushed hers.

"I'll try," he whispered. _Family_. His mind mulled over that, and chose to stay on that line of thought, just to try and ignore her proximity, the way she smelled, her arms around him, her hand in his. Damn the part of his brain that was the basic male instinct to see and want what was simply not there.

**Tifa:**

_Any excuse_, her brain scolded. _Tifa, really_. But _oh_, it was heaven to have a comforting touch, a non-judging embrace. Thrilled more than she cared to admit that he didn't push her away, Tifa grinned back and wrinkled her nose, nuzzling his cheek girlishly.

"Good," she said matter-of-factly. "I'm tickled." She couldn't help the imp of mischief that made her giggle again and sniff the skin behind his ear. "Plumeria soap smells good on you, Vincent," she teased with a smirk.

But time was passing and she had to get to work. Clambering out of the bed, she returned the brush to the dresser and said, "Well, come on, old man, there's work a-waiting if you're up for it." With another giggle and a brilliant smile, she winked at him and darted from the room, hurrying downstairs to greet the first of her guests.

**Vincent:**

Her nuzzle caused him to blush again, and her comment caused his nose to wrinkle as well. Not from amusement, but disdain. He really should have already bought his own soap. Something far less feminine. He entertained the notion of buying the body wash version of a cologne Tifa had said she hated, but thought better of it. He preferred smelling good rather than like a bottle of household pine-oil cleanser. He sighed melodramatically at her mention of work, but nodded and replied, "I'll be down shortly. I can't let Cid have my job forever."

Once she'd closed the door behind her, Vincent resisted the urge to flop back against the bed for a few more minutes and forced himself to stand. He donned jeans and a long sleeved black button-up over a white T-shirt. The sleeves were loose enough to fit over his gauntlet, as long as he left the cuffs unbuttoned. He decided it was a good idea to purchase more than one pair of boots, for that left him a clean pair to wearing tonight that lacked the bloody, crusty mess that adorned the other pair. A few minutes later, he was downstairs and at the bar, with Cid never seeming more relieved to see him.

"Shit, Val! I thought fer damn sure you'd sleep the night away and leave me here to work yer shitty job! Thank _Planet_ you're here..." With that, the pilot slung the towel that had been over his shoulder around Vincent's neck and clapped him on the shoulder, heading around to the outside of the bar to join the patrons. Vincent smirked and began his nightly duties, enjoying the feel of familiarity.

Nod, place glass, pour. Occasionally the routine was broken by mixing a frozen drink, or some other mundane thing, but overall, it was the same, and he went as far as to pour himself a drink, glad to be back and have the demons sated for the time being.

**Tifa:**

Tifa couldn't sleep. No matter _how_ she tried it. Counting chocobos, reciting all the names of the stars backwards and forwards, tapping her toes rhythmically against the bedpost, none of it worked. A frustrated glance at her clock revealed the time to be four AM; she'd been tossing and turning for nearly two hours. Despite the fact that she'd been asleep on her feet earlier. Drat. A niggling curiosity had been burning in her brain for _days_ and it was unable to let her forget about it. _Oh for Gaia's sake_, she snorted in consternation and flung off the covers, getting out of bed and padding to the door.

Slipping downstairs, she heard silence; the kids were snoozing peacefully, as were Nanaki, Barret and Cid, although altercations about the couch were never-ending. Tough, she had to grin. She emerged into the kitchen and, not bothering with a light, rummaged in the fridge for leftover chocolate pudding. Maybe a snack would help. Hey, it never hurt to try, she reasoned, and chocolate was a balm to many an ailment.

Taking the bowl and a spoon, she went into the main bar area…and stifled a scream as she spied Vincent seated on a barstool, leaning against the counter and staring out the window into the darkness. Taking a breath to rein in her galloping heart, Tifa hastily put down the bowl and spoon. "Vincent!" she exclaimed, clutching the top of her nightshirt, "you nearly gave me a heart attack! What are you doing still down here so late?"

**Vincent:**

"Sorry. Couldn't sleep," came the bland, quiet reply. It was going to be one of those nights where nightmares kept sleep at bay, just barely. He was tired, and had dozed earlier, only to have that sleep disturbed by haunting images and memories of people and events long gone and past, yet ever fresh enough to present salt for his wounds when he tried to rest. Well, at least they came less often now than when he had been alone.

He took his eyes from the window and looked at her, then gestured to the stool beside him, "late night snack?" She was restless too; else she wouldn't be down here. Was it something to do with Cloud? Another problem? Or just sleeplessness? The last seemed very unlikely, given how full her day had been.

**Tifa:**

Tifa's lips twitched wryly. "That's obvious," she muttered under her breath with a chuckle. Puttering around the counter, she plunked down beside him with her bowl and spoon, relishing the sweet pudding. If she wasn't careful, she'd finish the entire thing. …which might not hurt, all circumstances considered. Silence reigned for a bit, but the niggle in her brain just wouldn't stop. Finally, she just _had_ to ask, before she spontaneously combusted.

"Vincent," she began slowly, "…what do you _do_ when you go off like that? I mean, why?" She glanced down at his left hand. "Does it have anything to do with that?" she asked, gesturing with her spoon.

**Vincent:**

Everyone probably assumed that beneath what some might call a handy weapon was a mechanical limb. He almost snorted softly. Staring into the glass of amber liquid still sitting - somewhat abandoned - upon the bar, he finally answered in the briefest and vaguest way possible.

"I let them out. It's necessary." And he hoped she would leave it at that, for he intended to. Some doors had to remain closed, and locked, between them.

**Tifa:**

Let it end with that? Not very likely. Tifa swung around, setting the bowl upon the bar. "Them…" she echoed. Lifting her eyebrows, she obviously waited for him to elaborate. When he didn't immediately answer, immediate for Vincent being within ten minutes, she tried again.

"Is your arm like Barret's? I know the talons are sharp, but we never did see you use them very much."

**Vincent:**

Instinct began to take over, that stoic, protective shell reforming around him. Obviously his hint hadn't been enough to sway her. His left arm instinctively hid itself by his side and slightly behind his back as he spun slowly to face her on the swiveling stool. His face remained exactly the same, his voice quiet but now more firm, "No, it's not like Barrett's. Is this why you are awake?" He _would not_ simply spill his darkest secrets to her. There was very little he wouldn't have done for her, but that was one.

**Tifa:**

Tifa blinked, then shrugged a shoulder. "Partly. Mostly I just couldn't get comfortable." She wasn't daunted by his unwillingness but she couldn't just _let it go_, either. That was the female in her. But brown eyes narrowed slightly as she sensed his withdrawal, way back into his shell. _Gaia_, but would the man unbend just a _little_?

"You can tell me, Vincent. I can't imagine it being such an evil, dark secret," she replied quietly. "I just want to understand. And maybe help you to, too."

**Vincent:**

"Then you don't have a very good imagination," he quipped. The moment it came out, he almost winced, regretting the way it sounded. Another sigh as he turned to the bar, leaning both elbows on it and picking up the glass of brandy. He stared into the glass, chewing his lip for a short moment before finally replying.

"Tifa, I know you want to help. I know you want to understand. But that's something I don't want to talk about. It's something I don't want help with, or sympathy for. There are parts of me that I can't talk about, and that I hope you never see."

There, that was as plain as plain could get. She would have to be damned adamant to ask anything more. He didn't want to hurt her... but he didn't want to expose that part of himself to her. Not yet, probably not ever.

**Tifa:**

Tifa hit that brick wall head-on, nearly bloodying her forehead. She opened her mouth, but no words came forth. Snapping it closed, she just nodded and turned away, sliding from her barstool and taking the bowl back to the kitchen. As he wished. She'd leave him to his thoughts. But be damned if she _snivel_ about it. The easy familiarity was just a superfluous layer, she realized, avoiding the main room as she went back upstairs. Beneath the glassy surface lurked a world of hungry monsters. Literally.

But Vincent was right; it wasn't any of her business. Returning to her bedroom, she closed the door softly and lay back down in bed, trying without success to go to sleep.

**Vincent:**

He didn't look up until he knew she was gone. The drink disappeared, replaced by another, and one more until it was apparent to him that the numbness was never going to make enough difference. He felt like a jerk... but told himself it was the right thing to do. Even if he told her, what would she think? If she knew that if his monsters went unfed, they might one day turn on her, or the kids... what would she say?

What any sane person would, being, "Get the hell out." And she'd have every right to say that. The more he thought about it, the worse he felt. Then there was the matter of his arm. So many bad memories were associated with that, even beyond his monsters. Things that still bled inside him like fresh wounds. He wouldn't tell her... he couldn't. An hour later, close to dawn, he finally walked upstairs and locked himself in his room, as unable to rest as she

_To be continued…_


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** **_Please_** see the notation in the first chapter.

I know there are errors in this one, but I keep losing them every time I find them. Please excuse.

**Disclaimer: **We, in no way whatsoever, own anything of and pertaining to the _Final Fantasy VII _or _Advent Children_ works; that right belongs to other fortunate souls. We also reap no monetary benefits from this exercise in literary creativity.

_**Chapter Nine: **_

**Tifa: **

The atmosphere was hushed the next morning. Tifa made excellent breakfast, running on reflex. The kids were their usual talkative selves, as were Barret and Cid. Although her former companions noticed Tifa's uncharacteristic quietness, Nanaki was the only one to dare comment upon it. And he did so, padding down the hall after her when she exited the kitchen. The large red cat paused in the utility room doorway, watching Tifa methodically load the washing machine, shoving clothes inside with tense aggressiveness.

Red sat on his haunches, tail swishing slightly. "What is bothering you, Tifa?" he asked, deciding to just ask instead of beat around the bush or just pretend to not notice.

She didn't answer for a moment but finally she closed the washer lid and answered, without turning around, "Nothing." Her clipped answer made the brow over Red's good eye twitch upwards.

"I am not human, Tifa," he reminded her gently. "You don't have to pretend around me. What has happened to upset you so?"

Tifa's lips thinned. Nanaki was right; he wasn't human and didn't think like one either. Thank Planet. "Vincent and I had a small disagreement."

_Ah ha_. Red's knowing look intensified but smoothed as she glanced over at him. "I surmised," he replied. He inquired as to the why and she gave him a short version, to which he replied, "Valentine has many secrets, Tifa. And limited trust in other beings. You should not blame him for being wary, when such a betrayal rides him so."

Tifa's fists clenched. "_I_ wasn't the one who ruined his life, Nanaki. None of us were. He's been dragging that around for _decades_."

The cat tilted his head. "All the more reason it is hard for him to release it, Tifa. He has been under its influence for so long, the absence of it would be frightening, I fear. He would not be who he is if he did not have that burden."

She sighed exasperation and snorted. "Yes, I know," she said shortly, waving a jerky hand. "It's just..._frustrating_ sometimes."

Nanaki chuckled and padded over to her, head tilted in invitation which she took, rubbing the soft red fur. "Time, Tifa. Give him time. Old wounds do not heal quickly."

**Vincent: **

No sleep came, naturally. He remained in his room through the morning, through breakfast. He heard bits of the conversation downstairs, but purposefully tuned it out and rolled onto his side. The alcohol did nothing for his thoughts, but it made his body lazy as hell.

Well into the morning, closer to noon, he finally pulled himself from the bed. Tifa would be teaching the children by now, and he would be able to avoid her with relative ease. It was his natural reaction to become socially avoidant during interpersonal problems. A bad habit, but a hard one to break. Maybe it would blow over; maybe she'd get over it. By that night, he saw that it wasn't going to go away quite as soon as he hoped.

Once the children were in bed and the bar was open, she played hostess as well as ever, but the passing comments and smiles were absent between them. The few times he looked at her, she wasn't looking back. No small smirks at drunken patrons, no chuckles or whispered comments. Not everyone was like this, though. Nanaki gave him a few pointed looks, the knowing feline wisdom showing through that one keen eye. Vincent just stared blankly back at him, ever the king of masks.

The night wore on. Thoughts niggled at him, amid the background noise of patrons wallowing in self-pity or basking in their own self-perceived righteousness. He paid only enough attention to nod, shake his head, or pour a drink. When Lucretia had pushed him away, he hadn't understood. But he, in a way, accepted it, however brokenly. He kept trying, now and then, to win her attention, even for a moment. His successes, few and far between, led him further into the false belief that one day, she might come around. As long as he didn't approach the core of their problems, as long as he didn't rock the boat and chase her away, maybe she'd see that he loved her. So he'd thought. And how _wrong_ he'd turned out to be.

Was he risking that with Tifa? It plagued him more, as closing time neared. Would they still share coffee tonight? Or would the walls he built around himself cause her to withdraw her attention from him completely? He was torn most of all by wondering if keeping his secrets was worth losing what he'd gained in her friendship. But if he told her... wouldn't she pull away for certain? Or pity him more. Vincent wasn't sure what would be worse.

Finally, with a small lump in his gut caused from anxiety, a rare thing for him now, he closed the bar, just as Tifa bid goodnight to the last person walking out of the door.

**Tifa: **

It'd been a rough day. But chores and the like had kept her busy, unable to dwell on the unease in her back brain. For which she was grateful. Tifa bid the last few folks a pleasant night and closed the door, locking it behind her and moving to place chairs atop tables so Dezra could sweep and mop the floor. She picked up the last tub of dishes and took it to the kitchen, depositing it in the sink.

Cid and Barret were giving a hand, joking with Rolfe and William as they went about closing duties. Tifa indulged them with passive smiles, but didn't partake of the banter. She merely went about her tasks in respective silence, getting everything situated for the morning and following day's business. An hour and a half later, she bid her employees good night and the same to Cid, Barret and Nanaki, the three trooping down the hall to the living room and their lumpy couch. Tifa'd had the foresight to rustle up an air mattress for their use, to alleviate the fisticuffs about sleeping on the floor.

She moved around Vincent with practiced grace, letting him finish and heading to the kitchen to make coffee. It dawned on her as she was pouring water in the coffee maker. She'd pushed him last night. No matter how gently, she'd still been invasive and was now pouting that she'd been reprimanded. Well, maybe not _pouting_, but a close second. Tifa put the coffee pot down with a sigh. She'd done the same damned thing to Cloud, hadn't she? Pushed and prodded and poked. Wanted him to _deal_ with things. When he hadn't wanted to.

She bit her lip. It wasn't her right to demand anything of anyone else. _Bloody hell_. She'd given Vincent his space today; apparently he'd wanted her to stay away, because he'd said less than two words to her all day. He probably still thought her a nosy brat who couldn't stand being told _no_. Tifa shook her head, wanting to kick herself.

As the grounds finished steeping, she poured coffee into Vincent's customary coffee cup and brought it from the kitchen, turning out the lights. She set it down near him and said, avoiding his gaze, "Coffee. I think I'm just going to bed. Didn't get much sleep last night and I'm tired. So, goodnight."

There, done. Before she could make another total fool of herself, she all but ran upstairs and into her bedroom, closing the door softly and gnawing on a knuckle to keep from screaming.

**Vincent: **

He had just opened his mouth when she left the room. He glanced at the mug and closed his mouth after a soft sigh. Moments later, he was standing outside her door, staring at the tiny lines of the grain beneath the paint. He had to make a choice. He could turn around, walk back to his room and try to pretend nothing had happened. It would mean things would probably stay awkward between them, but might eventually smooth out. There was an equal chance that, like Lucretia, things would get progressively worse.

Alternatively, he could tell her the truth... or at least enough of it to sate her. Apologize, and just tell her. Then she could see him for what he was... and tell him to leave. That would... hurt. Or she could have a reaction the likes of which when she saw his scars, and pity him more. He didn't want that, but it was, he supposed, better than her wanting him gone. He'd come to like it here, foolishly, he admitted to himself.

He chewed his bottom lip, then knocked quietly on her door. If he was living in her house, she deserved to know what kind of... _thing_ she'd offered her hospitality to. "Tifa? Are you still awake?"

**Tifa: **

Although Tifa had every intention of getting dressed for bed and getting in it, she'd only made it as far as undressing. Forward momentum had waned and she drifted to the window, nightshirt clutched to her chest and she peered outside, scarcely noticing the twinkle of lights in New Midgar. But she stared outside, feeling numb inside. The quiet knock on the door made her jump, stifling a yelp. Hurriedly shoving on her nightshirt, she yanked the band from her hair and tossed it aside.

"Yes," she called, "I'm awake." She flicked on the lamp and went to the door, opening it a bit to see Vincent beyond it. Brown eyes blinked. "You okay?"

**Vincent: **

_Not really. But it all depends on whether this goes as badly as I suspect it might_, played through his head, but to her, he simply asked in a low tone, "Can I come in? If you aren't too tired. We... need to talk about something."

When she stepped aside to allow him in, he noted the quizzical, almost worried expression she wore. She shut the door behind him and he walked to the window where, unknown to him, she had been standing before. "I... I wanted to apologize. About last night." Damn it. Words were hard to find past that point. How do you explain to someone what years of rejection and self-punishment had done to one's ability to trust? How does one talk about something that had rang inside the soul like a silent, tormented scream, never to be heard or acknowledged by any other being? He fumbled at first for words, looking down at the street below, then lifting his gaze to the stars.

"It's just that... I didn't expect you to ask those questions. I've never had to answer them before, and," he raised his left hand, shifting scarlet eyes to it, "_this_, is something I don't really like to talk about."

He plowed on before she could stop him, before she could change his mind. Those red orbs, showing their color in a dark russet tone in the dim light, looked at last into her dark eyes, and for once there was enough in them to hint at the well of pain below the placid surface of the man that was Vincent Valentine. "But I think I owe it to you, to tell you the truth."

**Tifa:**

Tifa turned from the door and was about to speak, but he beat her to it. She blinked in surprise at his words. But she remained silent, arms crossed over her chest in effort to warm her hands. Daring to approach him at the window, she did so, standing just to the side of his left shoulder. Her eyes fell to the gleaming metal adorning his left arm as he lifted it, the soft lamplight glimmering on the casing.

Teeth gnawed on her lower lip; she was about to tell him it was all right, you don't have to, never mind, but he turned to her and she looked up at him, brown eyes meeting red. Ordinarily, previously, she would have taken his hand and tried to offer reassurance and comfort, but she wasn't sure he wished it anymore. Thus her hesitation as she answered, "…all right." Not a query or negation, merely acceptance of whatever he wished to disclose.

**Vincent: **

He looked back out the window as he began softly. "The four forms I can take are not just weapons, Tifa. They never were. When and if I use them often, as I did during our quest to stop Sephiroth, I am stable enough to control not so much what they do, but who they do it to. When I go for as much as a few weeks without giving them that release, they become insistent."

His voice dropped, "If I were to go too long without going out, to let them kill, let them feed... they might take over and put those around me at risk... even you. Or worse, Denzel and Marlene." The tips of his talons clicked together in nervous habit, but it served to emphasize a point as he looked at her. "I know you and the others are afraid of me when I take those forms. You always have been, and you should be. Understand that I would never, _ever_ intentionally hurt you or anyone else here, Tifa, but if I lost control around you... I don't even want to think of what I'd wake up to find. You'd have to kill me. So that's why I will go out periodically... and let them have the fiends and animals that roam the fields and mountains instead."

He knew the shame was showing in his tone, in his eyes and expression. It was only right that it show, in this case. He gave her a moment to soak that in, wishing to read her reaction before even trying to go further.

**Tifa: **

Well, she honestly hadn't expected his explanation, but wouldn't have stopped it for anything. The burning curiosity was still bubbling in her brain, but at what cost? She'd wanted to know, _desperately_ wanted to understand, yet the fear, the shame, the _mortification_ writ along Vincent's every feature hinted at a price she wasn't sure he could pay. But he plunged on and she kept silent, allowing no emotion to cross her face, anything to cease his words. And yes, she'd been afraid; any sane person would.

However, she just couldn't believe that of Vincent. That he would allow a foe, for allies the parasites were definitely not, to ambush him like so and break his indomitable will. He was stronger than that. She knew it and believed it. "I know you wouldn't, Vincent," she murmured quietly, daring to peek up at him, no judgment writ upon her countenance. But she didn't offer anything else, as it was pointless to do so. She wanted him to go on, to say what he would. The opportunity might never come again.

**Vincent: **

He shrugged out of the black shirt, hands carefully freeing themselves of the sleeves. They were trembling. The shirt fell to the floor with the soft rustle of pooling cotton, and Vincent could not meet Tifa's gaze. Onyx hair did well to hide some of his face, but not enough. He felt terribly exposed, as if he were about to strip naked to his soul, rather than just show her what lay beneath the gauntlet and glove. No one had seen in almost three decades. He intended never to let anyone see, yet here he was in Tifa's room, about to lay bare a part of himself that thoroughly disgusted him.

His voice became low, monotonous, mechanical as the cold former-Turk took over where the man would otherwise have failed. "In several cultures and religions..." He unfastened the brass coverings, one by one. "The right arm symbolizes all that is good, trustworthy, and honorable." The brass covering his forearm was loosened and laid upon the window sill.

"Guests and friends are seated at the right side of their host. It is the same with honored members of the family." The plate covering the back of his hand came next. "But the left side..." Then the talons, one by one. "The left is reserved for traitors. For those untrustworthy. For the sinners and the filth." At last every piece of the gauntlet lay gleaming under the moonlight, with darker highlights cast from the dim, yellowish light of the lamp. The fingers of his right hand grasped the top of the black leather sleeve.

"For monsters. I suppose it's only fitting that my devils stem from this." He forced himself to begin peeling the fabric slowly down, the soft silicon based lining of the thicker fabric above it no longer shielding what he'd hid from the world. He could not look at her as skin even paler than what she'd already seen came into view.

White as a sheet, lined with dark veins in blue and finer, spidery wisps of red. From just above the elbow down... was barely recognizable as a human arm. Vincent bit his lip so as not to hiss at the sting of cool air against the overly sensitive scar tissue. He tried not to look at it, but couldn't help himself. He saw against the myriad marks criss-crossing each other, made half a lifetime ago, yet feeling so fresh.

There was no smooth place, no fine hairs left. Not even the pores worked to sweat anymore. Nothing but heightened sensation that made even the barest bump against any hard surface shoot spikes of hot pain up his arm. His breath caught slightly, let out in a shaking exhale as the glove parted with his fingertips to join the gauntlet. He slowly turned his wrist to expose the long, jagged line of raised tissue, dark against the rest of his arm and winding from his palm to his elbow.

Vincent tried to keep his voice steady, but failed, and was more the shamed. "I... I'm no scientist, so I can only grasp the most basic concept of how... how they did it. But within this arm is the key to my transformations, and therein lie my demons. I once thought to remove it but...I'm not sure what would happen if I did. There are fail-safes." The last seemed added as an after-thought. For a long moment he stayed in silence, staring at the ugliness he now showed her. He steeled his nerves, and slowly lifted vermilion eyes to look at Tifa.

**Tifa: **

He was right; she was afraid. In morbid fascination, Tifa watched as Vincent slowly, methodically began to remove the brass casings over his left arm, eyes fastened to the appendage, unable to look away. She couldn't help the widening of shocked brown eyes as her mind saw the hideous carnage of what once had been a human arm and hand.

Teeth gnawed the inside of her lip as he exposed his wrist; Tifa had seen the needle tracts that marked a mako addict, but they _paled_ in comparison to the damage in Vincent's flesh. Actually, there was no rivalry at all; a junkie's arm seemed as bare as a mere tetanus injection. Her fists balled, nails cut into her palms.

A mixture of emotions zinged through her. Fear, disgust, loathing, pity and anger. Carefully, she schooled her face to show none, merely kept the guarded mask in place. Words turned to clotted ash on her tongue; she didn't think she could really say anything at this point. For a wild moment, she desperately wished he'd kept the damned thing on. Then she could imagine; she wouldn't have to _know_.

But, damn her curiosity all to hell, she'd had to _ask_. Repeatedly. But since he'd gone through the hell of revealing such to her, she would honor his sacrifice and let naught go to waste. To her credit, she didn't recoil or blanch at the ruin of Vincent's left arm, merely kept the clinical look as she peered at his arm.

"They injected you with the demons in your arm?" she echoed in a bit of wonder. "A strange place, but I'm not a scientist either." Her tone hardened. "All those freaks should be roasted in boiling mako. Especially those that used to work for Shin-Ra."

Tifa gingerly took hold of his upper arm and, so lightly, turned it over, still studiously examining the flesh. "And it'll never heal, will it." Not a question, for she already knew the answer. Chaos burned there, infesting its host with an unholy tarnish.

Finally, Tifa sensed Vincent staring at her and glanced up, releasing him. "I don't blame you for not talking about it, Vincent," she said quietly. "I can't imagine what it cost you to show me." But her resolve strengthened and she said in a firmer tone, "But it doesn't change my thinking one iota. Not _one_, you hear me?"

**Vincent: **

Didn't it? He simply would not believe this changed nothing. Vincent knew a mask when he saw one, and she hid her reactions well. But when she carefully took hold of his arm, it shocked him. She shouldn't be touching him. Not there, or really, anywhere. It was ugly. _He_ was ugly. But he could say nothing of it to her. It would just make her angry, so mutely he nodded, drawing his arm away from her and looking away again. He didn't elaborate that the demons weren't injected into him, that his arm was opened up and the thin cylinders were placed between the bones of his forearm. He knew... he watched them do it. Watched _her_ do it.

Bile rose in the back of his throat, which he quickly swallowed as he cradled his left arm with his right. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone." He knew she wouldn't. It was just something to fill the dead air. He felt stupid. For talking to her, for showing her, even though it hadn't gone as he'd expected. He wanted to put the glove back on and walk out, pretend she'd never seen.

But replacing the glove was no quick task, as careful as he had to be. So he simply stood there, waiting for her to turn away, or say goodnight, just so he could return to his room and hole up until morning. Not that he could blame her, it had been his decision, and she had deserved to know.

**Tifa: **

"I won't," she promised. Tifa reached beyond him and picked up a piece of the brass casing, turning it over in her hand, gazing at it intently. "I can see why you use this," she remarked. One eyebrow lifted slightly. "Though it's scratched something awful."

_Brilliant, Tifa_, her brain scolded. _The man's pouring out pain and angst and you're worried about polish?_ She lowered her eyes. "…I'm sorry. I just…just don't know what else to say. You won't believe me anyway; there's nothing that'll change that." Tears welled in her eyes. Her fingers clenched around the brass in her palm.

"Damnit, I want to just _murder_ the insane bastard that did this to you! _No one_ should have to suffer like this, Vincent!" She choked a sob, closing her teeth around the noise. She started to pace a bit. "Least of all _you_. Mother of Gods, I wouldn't wish this torture on my worse enemy! Ever!" She threw her arms in the air as she whirled. "Not someone who's …honorable…patient…understanding…caring…"

She ran short of adjectives in her frustration and stopped before him, giving his chest a thump. "And don't you _dare_ stand there and deny it. Because I've _seen_ it in you! I've _seen_ it, Vincent!" She tossed the casing atop the mattress. "But you won't let the hurt out, so someone has to hurt for you…" She sniffled, lowering her head, plunking it to his collarbone.

**Vincent: **

He bit his bottom lip and for a moment rested his chin against her hair, eyes closed. They remained that way as he whispered, "I don't want you to hurt for me, Tifa. Ever. You've had enough of pain and loneliness. You've suffered enough on your own, let alone the burdens you bear for others."

He leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling, unmoving otherwise. His eyes stung a little, but he pushed it all away as he sighed. "I'm glad beyond words that you think me all that, that you... care about me. But part of this was my doing. Much of it was Hojo's, and he is dead now. He left me with three of his worst creations to contend with... but he himself is dead and gone."

He thanked the Planet for that. It had felt so good in one sense, so hollow in another, to watch the steel slug impact with the scientist's skull and explode in a torrent of bone, gray matter and blood out the other side. His right hand came to rest of Tifa's left shoulder, and he gently pushed her back enough to look into her eyes. "So to me, the best thing you can do is let it go. No one is worth your pain, least of all me."

**Tifa: **

She wanted to slug him. With a broom handle. No, she'd just use her fists. Might make her feel better. Tifa closed her teeth on further protestations, not wanting to waste the precious breaths. Brown eyes glassy with unshed tears, she just gazed up at him. Yet a small spark glimmered in the dark depths.

"That's for _me_ to decide, Vincent Valentine, and I happen to think you're _more_ than worthy." Her lower lip trembled and her hands rose to rest on his shoulders for a moment before pressing palms to either side of his face, long fingers slipping into thick black strands. "The best thing _you_ can do, too, is let it go, Vincent," she whispered vehemently. "It doesn't have to hurt like this."

Tifa nearly whimpered, leaning closer against him. It ached her heart, to see this much pain and be unable to stem the source. She didn't know how to help, didn't know what to do and that made her all the more frustrated and uncertain. Dark lashes lowered over equally dark eyes as she breathed, "I want to help make it better, Vincent. I don't want you to hurt this way anymore."

_The breathtaking beauty of pain…_ It was drawing her, the bittersweetness almost palpable. Unconsciously, Tifa held him closer, mere centimeters separating them. An inhaled breath brushed her lips against his and she nearly jerked away, but his own surprised reaction allowed her to lick her lips and the thrill that spiraled from her mouth through her body made her breath catch and a small high moan escaped before she returned to him, this time pressing her mouth firmly against Vincent's, wanting to take away some of the pain and banish it to the four winds, forever forgotten.

**Vincent: **

At the first brush of her lips, he shivered, eyes wide open and fixated on her. When her mouth met his and she genuinely kissed him, something inside him broke. Something long dead, cold, and locked away. For the briefest moment, he could believe that he was still human. That he was a man. In that instant, he didn't feel the rippled, scarred flesh of his left arm, didn't hear the dark voices way down in the darkest corners of his mind, didn't think of his sins. He felt Tifa, her lips to his, with no reservations. That she would touch him, _kiss_ him, spoke volumes after what he'd just told her and shown her. Her lips were so soft, and in his surprise he could taste her.

Before he knew it, his right hand cupped her cheek. He was lost. Tifa accepted him. She cared about him. And she _showed_ it. Not like...Lucrecia. The pain of betrayal, the fear of closeness and what it would ultimately bring came rushing back, and breathless he pulled away, though just far enough to separate their lips. With eyes still closed, he panted softly, trying desperately to regain his thoughts and find words to ask why she had done that. None came.

**Tifa: **

_Gaia, but it had been so very long_…since she'd felt a welcome touch. Vincent was immobile against her; Tifa was afraid to suggest anything more in fear of either angering or frightening him more. Yet the feel, taste of his mouth was _electrifying_. Although usually set in a stern line, Vincent's mouth was warm and full, surprising her a bit. Warmth spread through her, igniting sparks deep inside she'd thought dormant for years.

Her fingers slipped deeper into that mass of thick ebon hair but she demurred and blinked open dazed dark eyes as he left her. Unwilling to give up so soon, yearning for the comfort of another soul, no matter that his was torn and rent, her eyes closed again and she tilted her head and pressed parted lips against his, wanting that feel for a brief moment more.

Strong arms wound about his neck as she kissed him, mouth gently caressing the soft flesh of his lower lip, teeth catching just slightly on the damp skin. A gentle whimper left her; this was probably madness but she didn't care.

**Vincent: **

_Damn_ the woman, but didn't she know what she was _doing_? He felt as if he were being tempted with something he could never truly have. And what a temptation... The fervor in her kiss pulled a soft sound from deep in his throat, a suppressed groan born of frustration and want. He had to steady himself, his right hand finding her hair and tangling in the chocolate locks. Tentatively, oh so carefully, the left joined it.

His lips moved against his own will, parting to trap the supple curve of her upper lip as he felt her teeth graze his lower. Lucretia was banished from his mind again. It would hurt later. Probably soon. But for now, while part of him screamed of how wrong it was, the rest of him wanted to enjoy this kiss, his first in so very, very long.

With a shaking sigh into her mouth, he nuzzled her nose and pressed into the kiss, just a little, just enough. Timid, but encouraging. _Gaia_, it felt good enough to ache. _She_ felt good enough to make him... _feel_. She smelled of plumeria, and he liked that scent on her.

Finally, when his heart was beating hard enough to thud against his ribs, he broke from her, needing to breathe, and to stop before she caused him to desire more than a kiss. Panting, he opened his eyes and forced himself to ask, "Why... why did you do that?" There was no anger, no self-loathing. This time it was an honest question.

**Tifa: **

Tifa's heart soared as she felt Vincent move into the kiss, returning it. His receptiveness only fueled hers and she longed to burrow into him, strip all inhibitions and just get lost in his darkness, a thick blanket of security and warmth. For she knew none better could protect her from the howling monsters in the blackness. She heard her pulse thunder in her ears and soon realized the echoing pounding was Vincent's own heart, pressed against her chest. Fine nostrils flared as he nuzzled her, sending gooseflesh over her skin.

But the need for oxygen soon burned in her own lungs and she let him pull away with a wrench of cold regret. Her hands slipped from about his neck to lightly rest fingertips against his chest, eyes falling to gaze at them as she heard his breathless query.

Indeed, why? There was only one answer she had. Tifa didn't know if it was the right one, but she gave it anyway. "…because I wanted to," she replied softly, her own voice husky. Brown eyes glance up through her lashes. "If…if it was wrong…then, I apologize, Vincent," she added in a small voice.

**Vincent: **

He shook his head, thick black bangs moving with the motion, "Don't apologize." He looked down at her hands, still trying to calm that which she had stirred in him. "I just wanted to know why." It was wrong. It had to be. But he didn't want her to feel sorry for doing it, didn't want her to take it back when, for even a little while, it had meant there was something more than loneliness in his life.

He felt his cheeks burn a little, and his heart still hadn't slowed. He knew he'd better go before they were drawn together again. "It's getting late." It was already late, to be more correct. He looked at the window sill, at the glove and brass, then at her. He hoped he could convey with his eyes the worth of the kiss, and at the same time, he feared letting her know its full effect on him.

**Tifa: **

Tifa's fingers caught in a few stray tendrils of long black hair that streamed over Vincent's shoulder, nodding minutely. Conscious thought had escaped her for the moment and she had nothing else to day. Which was what had started the trouble in the first place. "Yeah," she finally agreed. "And the kids will be up soon." She lifted her eyes to his, giving him a smile. "And I think we both need some rest."

But she remained where she was for a few moments longer, lingering want fading in her mind. _Damn, now this is awkward…_ But the earnestness in his gaze touched her and she gestured to his left hand. "Would you like me to help you with it?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: **

To the FFVII fans: I can't say how thrilled I am for such great feedback on this story. It just warms my heart, it does. Natalie and I squee daily to read and see the comments.

I'd also like to remind folks that this story is _co-oped_, meaning Natalie and I _both _are writing it, she writing as Vincent and me writing as Tifa. I have no control over her Vincent, just as she has none over my Tifa. I don't know how Vincent is going to react until I read the posts. And I don't know how Tifa will react until I post it. So, that is the glory of role play, to let characters bounce off one another. We both share everyone else, but Vincent and Tifa are the main characters.

However, I must warn that from here forward, things get a bit...strange. We really dive into the meat and plot of the role play, so please don't be surprised to see some oddness from our favorite characters. Please trust us when we say things are done for **_plot purposes_**, but sometimes others are done out of complete randomness. Most of this is not planned or outlined.

There is still quite a long ways to go, so never fear as there will be little lack of updates. Unless Nat's hubby gets annoyed by our all night role play sessions, that is. But when writing characters this great, sometimes it's just hard to stop.

All right. I shall stop dithering now and return to my editing. We both, from the bottom of our hearts and with a great love for this particular paring, express our deepest thanks and gratitude for those reading and will endeavor to continue with alacrity. Carry on.

Sibilant Macabre

**Disclaimer: **We, in no way whatsoever, own anything of and pertaining to the _Final Fantasy VII _or _Advent Children_ works; that right belongs to other fortunate souls. We also reap no monetary benefits from this exercise in literary creativity.

_**Chapter Ten:**_

**Vincent: **

His first instinct was to say no, but he bit his tongue and thought it over. Though care had to be taken, he was fully capable of replacing it himself. That was not the issue, however. She had just _kissed_ him, and now her willingness to help him in this seemed to further emphasize her acceptance of him, just as he was. In whatever way... Vincent dared not think too deeply into her actions, even with the hot tingle remaining upon his lips from their contact with hers.

Yet for tonight, he didn't have to think about it, or read into it, though he just _knew_ things would feel weird tomorrow, and that the kiss would probably not be repeated. He'd learned in his life not to expect much. For tonight, though, he would take the affection Tifa gave as a balm to his existence, and not object to her acceptance of him and all that he'd shown her. He hoped at least now, she would be able to imagine the depth of the trust he put in her by all he had done and said, and would do now.

Still breathing deeply, now from nervousness of her touch against his scarred flesh, he nodded mutely to her.

**Tifa: **

Her shy smile returned at his silent affirmation. Tifa reached to the window sill and picked up the silicon sleeve, rubbing it between her fingers thoughtfully. She flushed a bit and said, "This might be sort of stupid, but I'll do the best I can, Vincent. I don't want to hurt you."

But she gingerly clasped the material in her fingertips and held the opening wide apart, so he could slip into it easily. She resolutely pushed the former actions to the back of her mind, to be taken out and evaluated at a later date, say, when she was alone, or better yet, never. Normally, the awkwardness would be palpable but Tifa refused to let it be so. Determined to brazen it out, she also felt a bit humbled by the exchange.

True, she'd been more forward than she'd been in her _life_ by instigating that kiss, but Vincent had _returned_ it. He'd _returned_ it, by the Planet! That thought alone gave her a thrill she couldn't quite place, but relished nonetheless. Vincent, the stoic, unapproachable, mysterious figure of their little cadre, feared however unnecessarily by all of them, had shared with her his dark secrets and _kissed_ her back, on top of it _all_! As the thoughts flitted across her mind, Tifa felt her cheeks growing warmer by the second.

**Vincent: **

Though equally stupefied, Vincent wore the same calm expression he usually did, albeit slightly pinkened. As she held the glove open, he slipped his hand into it, working his fingers into it with a small grimace. That done, he let her slide it the rest of the way up his arm, then picked up his gauntlet pieces, minus the one she'd tossed on the bed, and placed them back into their familiar positions, feeling clothed again. He picked his shirt up, but let it lay over his left arm rather than bother putting it on again.

For a long moment he could only look out the window. How would she feel about this tomorrow? The next night? Would she act differently around him now... or pretend it was all a fanciful dream combined with the nightmare of his revelations? He brushed the thoughts away with another look at her. Not for the first time, he realized she was beautiful, from the inside out. Cloud had let something precious go, and the ex-Turk hoped the man now realized and lamented it as he should. The thought, surprisingly, gave him little guilt.

"Thank you Tifa, for listening. And..." he trailed off with a deeper blush and settled on, "Everything else."

**Tifa: **

Tifa helped with the sleeve, then handed him the remaining piece of brass, having stepped around him to retrieve it. After handing it over, she watched him gaze outside for a minute, then gave him another smile as he turned back to her.

"You're welcome, anytime." She resisted the urge to touch him again, no matter how playfully. "You have family, Vincent, whether you realize it or not. Don't be afraid of us." Before she yielded to another suicidal impulse to taste him again, she said, "But let's go to bed. It's been a long night."

After they both maneuvered to the door, she couldn't help but rise on her tiptoes and place a lingering kiss to his cheek and breathe, "Good night, Vincent." Stepping away, she said, "Sleep well."

**Vincent: **

He replaced the final piece, and felt awkward at her words. To her admission that both needed sleep, he nodded and walked with her to the door. The kiss she pressed to his cheek caused his eyes to flutter closed as he took a deep breath. Things _would_ be different now, however subtly, no matter what either said or did to pretend it was the same. He opened his eyes when she stepped back and returned in almost a whisper, voice deep as ever, though now a little roughened.

"You as well. Goodnight." He turned quickly and went to his room before anything else could be said or done. The remaining hours of the night would hold a world of thought, guilt, and introspections, he knew, but once inside the safety of his bedroom, he looked down at his left hand and for the first time, felt warmth at the newest memory that came with it.

**Tifa: **

Tifa woke surprisingly rested and comfortable. The sun graced her bedroom in hazy golden light, burning off the early dawn's foggy mist. She yawned and turned over, still unwilling to give up the warm comfort of bed. But the door opening made her grin against the pillows. Sure enough, three heartbeats later, Marlene's giggle reached her ears, followed by the little girl's pounce into bed.

"Tifa!" she cried, shaking her. "C'mon, wake up! It's time to get up!" Marlene shrieked laughter as a pillow flew from the covered lump and swatted her, falling back onto the mattress. She retaliated by tackling it, squirming around until both were hopelessly tangled in the sheets.

Tifa grinned and tickled small ribs. "Time to get up, hm? Well, why are you still in bed?"

Marlene cackled merrily and twisted around, trying to get away. They played for a few minutes and finally Tifa regained enough breath to crawl from bed.

"All right, you," she said, pulling off the covers. "Let's go get breakfast started."

Hand in hand, they skipped downstairs, Tifa quickly getting things going. Today was Saturday and every Saturday morning, kids from the local orphanage were treated to breakfast at _Seventh Heaven_. Miss Nadine Houseman, the den mother, was one of Tifa's long acquaintances. Besides, Tifa never minded in any way helping the children. Usually after breakfast, the kids were treated to a field trip of some kind, visiting one of Midgar's museums, going to a movie, or simply an outing in the park. Denzel and Marlene usually accompanied on these little jaunts.

An hour later, the bar was piled with breakfast food of all sorts, steaming heaps of toast, bacon, eggs, pancakes and waffles to name a few. Tifa did nothing by halves. Long years of practice in the kitchen served her well. Joined by Denzel, the three made quick work and were ready by the time the crew arrived. Twenty-six kids in all, ranging in age from infant to teenager filed into the barroom, chattering excitedly. Nadine, a slender young woman in her thirties, smiled and greeted Tifa warmly.

Cid, Barret and Nanaki eventually wandered in, enticed by the wondrous scents wafting from the kitchen. Good nature all 'round, everyone fell to breakfast. In the midst of all the ruckus, Tifa glanced upstairs, but perhaps it was better to let Vincent rest. Gaia knew the previous evening's stress provided a need for it.

But Cid pinched her hip, giving her a toothy grin around his coffee. "Yer inna good mood this mornin', Sparky," he teased, to which she smiled crookedly and shrugged.

"Slept good."

One of Cid's eyebrows arched. "Didja now. Well, 'at's real good."

She chuckled and swatted him away. "Go eat, Cid."

He smirked at her. "Yes'm." Nadine approached as he took himself off and chuckled quietly.

"Quite a crew, your companions," she said to Tifa, who nodded and refilled another plate.

"Yes, they grow on you," she said with mock severity. Both women laughed.

Afterwards, when hands and faces were washed and dishes gathered into tubs on the table, Nadine announced that they'd be visiting the old Shin-Ra museum and watching a film about some of their planet's history. Marlene whined and begged for Barret to accompany them, which Nadine endorsed with a radiant smile. He flushed, scratched the back of his head and capitulated. Tifa just grinned and helped rustle the mob out, waving bye to Denzel and Marlene as they trooped with the others.

Cid had taken himself off to see to a few parts for the _Highwind_, berthed at the shuttleport. Nanaki and Tifa returned to the kitchen, where the cat sat on his haunches and confessed, "Had I the means, I'd lend a hand, Tifa." He lowered his head and seemed a little embarrassed.

She laughed and gave him a fond ear-ruffle. "Oh, Red, it's all right. I don't mind the work."

He leaned into her hand, good eye closed. "I can see," he said with a chuckle. "Very well, I shall leave you to it then and enjoy the sunshine out back." So saying, he quietly padded into the backyard, leaving Tifa alone in the kitchen and humming to herself as she cleaned dishes.

**Vincent: **

He'd dozed off shortly after dawn, and woke feeling as if he'd slept longer than he actually had. And no dreams. He was pleasantly surprised. He scented bacon and other breakfast foods downstairs, and recalled that it was Saturday. With Saturday morning came the kids from the orphanage and their weekly breakfast and outing. He knew it couldn't be very early, and heard no commotion downstairs, meaning breakfast was over. He sighed and rolled out of bed, the events of the previous night seeming to him now like an all-too-realistic dream, fuzzed over by bits of sleep. He gathered his clothing for the day and headed to the bathroom to shower.

As the warm water ran down his body and cleared his head a bit, he thought more on the reasons behind Tifa's actions, and his own. The only plausible idea he could come up with - that he was willing to believe - was that it had been a highly emotional moment for both of them, each lonely and for a time needing to feel close to someone.

In her heart, he knew she still loved Cloud. In his heart he still cared for Lucrecia, though it was jaded by pain and betrayal and time. Tifa's feelings for Cloud were close to the same, but he knew she could never feel the sort of pain, loss and guilt that he felt. He never wanted her to feel that. In any case, he knew that last night would change something between them, but nothing major. She would still mother him as she did everyone, and he would still support her as a friend and confidant.

Once finished with his shower, and again smelling like a flower, he quickly dried off, got dressed, combed his fingers through his hair a few times and went downstairs. He walked into the kitchen to find her there, alone, cleaning up. Suddenly things felt a bit awkward, but he did well not to show it. "Good morning," he said as he opened the refrigerator and retrieved the milk, pouring himself a tall glass. He didn't often drink the stuff, but this morning he found he had a mild craving for it. He snitched a couple of peanut butter cookies from one of the three jars allocated for the kid's snacks and junk food to go with it and leaned against the counter, glass in right hand and the cookies held precariously in the left.

**Tifa:**

Tifa heard Vincent's quiet step over her humming and flashed him a brilliant smile as he entered the kitchen. "Good morning," she chirped in reply, cocking a brow at his choice of breakfast.

"No coffee?" she queried, up to her elbows in sudsy water. She diverted from her mission and expertly retrieved his coffee cup from the cupboard, setting it at his elbow. She just barely refrained from giving him a smack on the cheek but settled for a playful nudge with her elbow.

"I trust you slept well? You even slept through the ruckus, lucky." She giggled. Strange, yesterday had been cold shoulders and icy chill. _Now_, it was warm and friendly yet again. How'd that happen? But however it did, she was thankful.

**Vincent: **

He chuckled around a mouthful of peanut buttery goodness. He swallowed, chasing it with some milk and leaving the tiniest milk mustache before wiping it on the back of his hand.

"Maybe I'll have some after this. I did sleep well, actually." He left off, _Considering I didn't go to sleep until after sunrise_. He was glad for the change from yesterday as well. Though things felt a bit strange after last night, the atmosphere between them had noticeably relaxed... even more than before their little tiff.

"How's Nadine and the kids at the orphanage? Did they drag everyone with them this time?"

**Tifa: **

Tifa nodded, rinsing the last of the dishes. "Oh, they're fine. Or so I gathered from the noise level. Nadine and Marlene charmed Barret into going with them this morning and Cid's gone to see about some parts for the ship. Red's napping in the backyard, so all's quiet on the home front. For a change."

She rinsed the sink and dried her hands, draping the towel over the counter. With a gentle chuckle, she absently brushed a few crumbs from his shirt collar, maternal habit at its best. "Those turned out well, I'm glad to say. Even with Marlene's dubious help."

**Vincent: **

A small smile tugged one corner of his lips, "So, should I give her a compliment on them, or might that encourage her too much?" Marlene wanted to be just like Tifa, right down to being a perfect home-maker. As the girl had informed him, she'd also wanted to learn how to "totally kick butt!" like Tifa as well, but she had understandably been refused those lessons for the time being.

Cooking and baking however, she often begged her way into, sometimes turning into a total disaster, and sometimes surprisingly edible. Vincent was thankful that this time, the latter was the case. He didn't mind Tifa brushing the crumbs away, but it did return brief flashes of last night to his mind, of her standing much closer, arms around his neck... He quickly cut that line of thought, keeping his thoughts guarded and in the now.

**Tifa: **

A chuckle and a shrugged shoulder. "Either or, I think." A fleeting look crossed her face. "She's growing up so fast…so is Denzel. Sometimes it scares me." She fell silent for a bit, then said, "Eventually Marlene will go to live with Barret, when he's done with work. He's getting 'respectable'," she grinned. "And Denzel wants to go to the Academy to be a soldier, but I pray he'll grow out of _that_ notion," she said with a grimace.

Leaning arms on the counter, she stood beside Vincent, staring out the windows. Unthinking, as if it were a natural thing, she leaned her temple to his shoulder, sighing softly. "Eventually, they'll leave us, Vincent, and the house will be so empty."

She blinked and then laughed. "Gaia, listen to me, prattling like an old woman." She lifted her head and eyed him a bit. "How do you feel?" she asked seriously.

**Vincent: **

He looked down at her, eyes studying the shades of brown and black that varied from one strand of her hair to the other, his voice soft as he answered her. "Honestly, I'm not sure. I try not to think much of the future. It's easier to simply live day by day, and take what comes, as it comes."

He turned to look out of the window as she did with a melancholy smile, "As strange as it seems to me, comparing where I've been and where I thought I would go, I... enjoy being here. And I know that when my life changes again, when you or the children move onto other things, though I'll be happy for you, I will also be saddened." Before last night, he'd have had a harder time telling her that, but now things came easier, even the sad things.

**Tifa: **

Tifa returned her head to its former place, oddly comfortable. "I'm not going anywhere, Vincent. This is my home. I've busted my tail to make it so and don't plan on abandoning it anytime soon." As automatic as breathing, she slipped her arm beneath his, resting fingers against the coolness of his shirtsleeve.

"I'm glad you enjoy being here. It's nice to have…that comfort. When so much else has gone wrong in life," she added, a touch of bitterness in her voice. She looked down at the counter, suddenly self-conscious, but she _had_ to say _something_ about it. "I'm…glad of what you showed me last night, Vincent. I know that wasn't easy for you to do, but I'm glad you did." Her flush intensified. "…and for…after, too."

**Vincent: **

He felt his cheeks warm a little, but did not resist the instinct to pull his arm back enough for his fingertips to brush against hers, lacing them at the last joint while his thumb brushed the edge of her palm. Not quite holding her hand, but somehow more intimate. Slowly, his fingers did end up curling downward until her palm was pressed lightly to his. He wasn't sure what to say.

How do you thank someone for not throwing you out or being more afraid of you? How do you show appreciation for total acceptance and touch that was - for that moment at least - more than platonic and genuinely caring? By the way she spoke now, and the way he found himself responding, Vincent knew it had changed them more deeply than he'd thought. His mind had denied it, and would still deny it, but his heart knew better. All he was able to say was a quiet, "Me too," as the pad of his thumb rubbed gently against hers.

**Tifa: **

Tifa could have curled into a ball in his arms and remained forever in that moment, but the banging open of the front door and vile swearing as something crashed to the floor announced Captain Highwind's return. Tifa couldn't help but laugh and shake her head at Cid's vulgarity. With unfeigned reluctance, she detached herself from Vincent and emerged into the barroom to see Cid struggling with several large boxes while trying to kick inside those he'd already dropped.

"Cid," she implored, hurrying over, "if you'll take a breath, I'll help you! Grief!"

Cigarette still firmly clenched between his teeth, Cid flashed a grin at her and replied, "Thanks, Tif. Sure could use it. Baby's parts ain't light, 'at's for sure."

**Vincent: **

He sighed upon hearing the pilot, but not without an amused smirk. He walked into the barroom a moment after Tifa, in time to see her picking up one of the boxes while berating Cid. Wordlessly he stepped around the clutter to relieve the man of one of the larger boxes, holding it under one arm and bending to pick up another. Cid muttered thanks and launched into prattle about the improvements that could be made to the ship with these parts, down to the technical jargon of what each thing did.

The three plunked the boxes in the empty space behind the bar on the end nearest to the main door. In the midst of his prattle, Cid stopped as he noticed not only Tifa's smiling, more relaxed disposition, but Vincent's, even a smile from the man, however less cheery than Tifa's.

Cid blinked, "Well damn, Sunshine. You're livin' up to your nickname this morning. Someone spike your corn-flakes or something?" The blond gave a brief, knowing grin to Tifa.

Vincent shook his head, "Just got a decent bit of sleep, Highwind. Notably the first since you and Barrett began snoring contests to rattle the walls."

Cid just scoffed, "Yeah, I'm _sure_ you slept good." He felt like being a bit more crude than usual, since everyone was in such a nice mood, "Well, you're well-rested. Tif, you seem even perkier than usual too. I'll be a gentleman this time and not ask why you both just so _happen_ to be feeling your vitamins this morning." He grinned as the pale ex-Turk pinkened a bit and scowled at him.

**Tifa: **

Brown eyes rolled in extreme consternation. Cid was nothing if not a perverted tease. And sometimes the only way to shut him up was to be vulgar in return. Which tickled Tifa to no end. She assumed a nonchalant air and shrugged, idly fiddling with one of the box tops.

"You? A _gentleman_?" She giggled. "That's funny, Cid. Truth is," she said with a sly covert wink at Vincent, "after closing down last night, we had a rather swanky interlude involving the washing machine, right by you. Didn't you hear it?" She smirked.

"The spin cycle _really_ makes things interesting in the middle of all that slippery fun." Sometimes, it was nice to just give the brash male a dose of his own smarmy medicine. Hopefully it'd shut him up. Or just make him more obnoxious. A fifty-fifty chance.

**Vincent: **

One brow cocked clear to the rim of his aviator's goggles - which were far outdated but a "classic" look, he'd thought - while his mouth opened in surprise, the half-ash cigarette dangling precariously on his bottom lip. Vincent, though he picked up on her hint, was caught between a slight blush at the lewd idea and grinning at the pilot's look.

The blond wasn't stupefied for long, though. He knew the game too, and played along. "Really? Dammit, I thought this shirt smelled funny..." He played with the collar, sniffed it and made a disgusted face.

Without missing a beat and surprising himself that it actually _came out_, Vincent drolled, "It should. I used it to clean up afterwards."

Cid's mouth hung open, and this time he had to snag the cigarette between two fingers to keep it from falling. "Well _fuck_ me-"

"I'd rather not," the ex-Turk cut in briefly, causing Cid's gaping mouth to grin,

"Sunshine, I must be hearing things, because I'd have swore you just took part in a dirty joke..."

Vincent just offered a cool smile, walked past Cid with a light clap on the shoulder and said in his usual monotone, "Maybe I'm not joking."

And with that, he ambled into the kitchen for that coffee, feeling oddly good about being able to completely shut down Cid's entire thought process, even for moment.

**Tifa: **

Tifa blinked at Vincent's retaliation, but it tickled her mirth and she barely contained her giggles. Vincent? Making dirty jokes? Wonders would never cease. She relished the complete look of bafflement on Cid's face and finally broke into a fit of laughter as Vincent strolled into the kitchen.

Collapsing in a chair, she hugged her sides and chortled uncontrollably. "Cid!" she managed to gasp. "Good _Planet_!" Brushing away tears, she looked up at the pilot. "Of _course_ we were joking!"

But her brain hiccupped to a slamming halt as the image slashed across her mind and her giggles broke off abruptly, hot color flaming her cheeks as the feelings of last night's _actual_ events resurfaced. _Dear Gaia_. Tifa nervously cleared her throat and jumped up from her chair, giving Cid a perfunctory kiss on the cheek and with a mutter of chores to be done, scuttled into the kitchen for a glass of _really_ cold water.

**Vincent: **

Vincent sat at the kitchen table, coffee mug in hand as he glanced over the top half of the front page of the local newspaper. He didn't look up as she came in, getting herself a glass of ice water. He smirked for a moment longer on the joke and Cid's expression, then his mind traveled to moments before that, to their brief acknowledgment of the night before.

Then, with the natural course that thoughts tend to take, memories of the kiss and her words returned. _Because I wanted to_. He ignored further deliberation in favor of conversation. "Has Cid recovered yet? It's unusual for him to be quiet for so long." A small smirk remained in place.

**Tifa: **

Tifa hastily gulped down the glass of chill water, the icy bite welcome against her throat. Refilling it again, she moved to lean against the counter and grinned. "I think he's relearning how to breathe, yes," she answered. She flashed a brilliant smile. "That line was _great_, by the way." She flushed a bit. "I didn't expect you to go along with it, but sometimes being nasty is the only way to get Cid to shut up." A snerked giggle.

"I think your sense of humor is surfacing, Vincent," she teased. "Might want to watch that, wouldn't want the world to know you have one." Although she was more than tickled to see it. She twirled the glass in her hands, just for the need to have something to do. She probably shouldn't have made that comment to Cid, because now she was all…_twitchy_. Oh, _damn_ the man's innuendo for wrecking her thought patterns!

Suppressing a muted groan, Tifa lifted her eyes just in time to see Vincent lift the coffee cup and take a soft swallow and her brain almost shut down. In a rush of heat, she recalled with vivid clarity the surprising lushness of those lips, settling against the warm porcelain of the mug. _Gah!_

Hurriedly putting her water glass in the sink, she again muttered something unintelligible and fled the kitchen, _really_ wanting to find _something_ constructive to do, besides instigate a repeat of the previous evening's events. She found herself in the laundry room, of _all_ places of woe, and firmly entrenched her mind with laundry, of which, thanks to the number of people in the house, there was never a lack.

**Vincent: **

"Wouldn't want to ruin my image," he agreed, flipping the paper over. When she retreated so quickly, he wondered if something were wrong with her. She'd walked so briskly it bordered on running. The thought struck him after a moment that it might have something to do with the night before. It was odd, how they could go from being completely at ease with one another to jittery, if that were even the case of what bothered her.

He remained in the kitchen a while, finished his coffee and placed the mug in the sink, then found her in the laundry room. Nervousness tugged at his normally cool demeanor. True to his nature, he began to have more doubts about the kiss. Still, he avoided talking about it directly.

"Do you need any help?" he inquired. He glanced at the washing machine, and knew instantly that it was a mistake by the warmth of his face. He had almost nothing to do, having finished all the repairs on the house, painted nearly everything, and having sorted all records and balanced the financial log three times over.

**Tifa: **

After the third time of nearly dropping the bleach, Tifa gave up on the linens. Yanking towels from the washer, she started in on dark clothes instead; praise Planet all they needed were fabric softener and soap. Vincent's quiet question made her yelp in surprise; she hadn't heard him in the hall.

"Uh, I think I finally got it," she managed nervously and hurriedly closed the lid. And there went the fabric softener bottle, crashing to the floor with a wet _splat_. Naturally she'd forgotten to put the cap back on the bottle. Pale blue liquid splashed _everywhere_, coating her bare toes and the tops of Vincent's boots.

Muttering invective she usually reserved for Cloud's idiocy, Tifa swiftly bent and retrieved the now-empty bottle, coating her fingers in the slippery stuff in the process. _I'm not usually this stupid!_ she wailed inwardly. _Tifa! Get it together! It was just a _kiss_, for Gaia's sake!_ She closed her eyes, head bent and groaned silently. _And we want another one, if you ever get the spine to ask for it,_ her traitorous mind and body answered.

Gnawing on her lip, she whimpered in distress and finally managed to stand up and paste on a completely fake bright smile. "Isn't Monday two days away?" she tried to laugh it off lamely. "Cause I'm usually not this klutzy on Saturday…"

**Vincent: **

Almost thankful for something to do besides stand there, Vincent grabbed a towel from the pile of dirty laundry and began mopping the mess up, keeping the thick liquid from making its way under the washer and dryer. Her behavior and complete lack of coordination confirmed that she was quite and very frazzled about something. Still in the process of cleaning up the mess - though it would have to be mopped to keep from being sticky - Vincent looked up at her with gentle concern, ignoring her comment. "Tifa, what's wrong?"

**Tifa: **

Tifa backed up against the washer as Vincent knelt to clean up the mess and her breath hitched quite involuntarily at the vision of the glorious black hair that spilled over his shoulders and streamed down his back. _I am not this wanton_, she reminded herself firmly and frowned to hear a silent snicker somewhere in the back of her brain. _Shut up_, she told it angrily. _Just shut up_.

But she was unable to keep from reaching one hand towards those thick locks, wanting to bury fingers in the softness. As he looked up at her, she balled her fist and quickly returned it to her side, gnawing her lip. Chest heaving with labored breaths, she managed to blurt, "Nothing, Vincent…"

**Vincent: **

He missed seeing her reaching hand, but did not miss the jerking motion of her snatching it back. He mistook it simply for her thinking of helping more with the mess, and then changing her mind once she saw he'd gotten most of it up. He raised one brow, then the other at her, clearly disbelieving her.

"Then why are you suddenly so..." He trailed off, trying to think of a word that was mild and yet would get the point across. "... jittery? You seemed fine a little while ago." He reached out and took the empty plastic bottle from her, then used a dry corner of the towel to wipe the tips of her fingers as an afterthought. He sighed, and surprisingly his cheeks didn't color as he asked, "Does it have something to do with last night? Or is it something else?"

**Tifa: **

Numb fingers let him take the bottle. She could only stare down at him, trying to regain _some_ sense of decorum. This is _not_ dignified, Tifa Lockheart, she berated herself sternly. But the primal part of her brain just did not care at present and she suppressed a squeak as he toweled her fingers.

"Oh," she laughed nervously, "I'm all right. Just…just…" Just _what_? Gods, she couldn't just _blurt_ out what she was thinking! And hadn't this crept up suddenly. A shaky laugh escaped at that thought. Gaia, the day before she didn't even register Vincent was _male_, let alone damned attractive. _Yes, you did_, her brain disagreed. _You just chose to ignore it. Because you feared of ruining everything…_ Well, _that_ was certainly the truth.

Until their lips met the previous evening, Tifa hadn't been _quite_ so aware that Vincent was a _man_, just like Cloud. All right, perhaps Cloud wasn't such a good comparison, but damnit, Cloud had been her standard for a good long while. So, her mind reasoned, now that Cloud was gone, possibly for good, she was out of his charismatic jamming field and could see other forms of masculinity.

Oh, she knew Cid and Barret were men, but they were the sort she'd dealt with all of her life. Jocks, mainly. Big, buff, trash-talking males who treated her like one of the boys. But Vincent never had. He'd _always_ shown her the utmost respect and graciousness, simply because he was a gentleman. And just so, being a gentleman, he wouldn't stoop to repeating that questionably disastrous performance of last night, no matter _how_ much she might want him to.

One corner of her mouth turned up in a crooked false smile. "Sorry, I know it's odd, but just…clumsy, you know?" Clearing her throat, she hastily pushed a lock of hair behind an ear, unable to keep eyes on him, still knelt before her. _Gaia…_

_To be continued…_


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note:** **_Please_** see the notation in the first chapter.

Also, my computer crashed, for lack of better; the technical details would take me an hour of complete and utter rantage. So, apologies for the lack of updates; thank God I was able to recopy this from another website. But all's better and I will continue to update as events warrant.

Oh, also; warning for **character death**. Remember, it's a plot point.

**Disclaimer: **We, in no way whatsoever, own anything of and pertaining to the _Final Fantasy VII _or _Advent Children_ works; that right belongs to other fortunate souls. We also reap no monetary benefits from this exercise in literary creativity.

_**Chapter Eleven: **_

**Vincent:**

"I see," he answered quietly and stood. He placed the towel in a laundry basket by itself, then disposed of the bottle. He knew she was lying. Perhaps joking around with Cid had somehow shown her how wrong the kiss had been. Maybe she was afraid that there might be more of the same between them. As much as he agreed with the notion, he couldn't help the silent, small sting it caused. It wasn't something he was unused to, but he wasn't entirely numb.

Outwardly he showed no more than the stoic version of himself the world saw on a daily basis. He chose, for the moment, not to dwell on it. "I'll go to the store and get some more fabric softener. I'll be back soon."

And with that, he left the laundry room, made a stop in the kitchen to rinse his hands, and walked to the store, just as he said he would. It was best she didn't want more, he told himself as he walked the aisles, killing some time. He couldn't give her anything more than he had last night, anyway. Even that was too much.

Despite the irony of his name, Valentine knew he'd never been destined for more than the tragedy that occurred because he had loved a woman too much, one who did not return his feelings to the degree he'd built all hope upon. Tifa had been hurt by Cloud.

Maybe one day, he would come back, a changed man, and love her the way he should have been doing for years. Maybe she would find someone else eventually. She was young, with her whole life ahead of her. Maybe she was as lonely as he was, only hers was heightened by fresh loss and so she'd sought the touch she'd been missing from Cloud in him. That possibility stung worse than if she'd just had a momentary lapse in judgment. He didn't want to just be a replacement.

By the time he'd finally picked up what he'd set out for, Vincent had resolved to simply go on acting as if nothing had happened. It would be a lot easier for both of them in the end. He paid for his purchase and walked back to the place he'd tentatively come to think of as home.

**Tifa: **

Tifa stood against the washing machine for a long while, trying to digest what had just taken place. She was unmoving, save for blinking every so often, wondering what she'd done wrong. A horrifying thought occurred. _Did I offend him somehow?_

Cold shame washed over her, making her almost cower against the appliance. But voices from the front permeated her guilt-ridden brain and she came out of her stupor, dimly realizing Cid was calling her name. "Tifa?"

She paused; there was an odd tone in his voice. She met him in the hall and began to worry just a bit at his deeply serious face. "Ya better c'mere," he told her gravely, returning to the front room. Following him, Tifa blinked in high surprise to see the three men in the barroom. One, a slender man with a neatly trimmed beard and dark eyes nodded to her in warm recognition; she nodded back and said, "Reeve." But the blue suits of the other two put her instantly on guard. The slighter man lounged lazily against a table, his long red ponytail a mess as always. His companion, a large man of perpetual baldness and ever-present dark glasses merely stood stoically and said nothing. Turks.

Seeing her tense, Cid hastily interjected, "They got news, Tifa; hear 'em out."

She vented a small snort but approached anyway. "Hello, Reeve, Reno, Rude," she said, voice bordering between cordial and frosty.

Reeve, thankful for the civility, smiled slightly in response. The other two merely nodded, faces grave, a fact which surprised and heightened Tifa's worry, but Reno was usually _never_ without a quip.

"Hello, Tifa," Reeve replied, offering his hand for her to shake. He cleared his throat, then began. "As you can see, this is hardly a social call. I know you don't really have any reason to trust us," he tilted his head, taking in his escorts, "but believe me, I wish we had better news to impart."

Tifa inhaled a breath; beside her, Cid frowned harder.

Reeve looked from one to the other, then said, "I know this will come as the utmost of shocks, but I'm afraid Cloud Strife has been found dead in a motorcycle accident."

**Vincent:**

Carrying the single plastic bag with his purchase inside it, Vincent walked back to _Heaven_. He was surprised to see a black sedan sitting out in front of the bar. Definitely not a customer, and any expensive make of vehicle was a little unusual around that part of town. His mind cycled through the short list of people he knew who might own a car like that. The list was rather short.

Vincent entered through the back door in order to drop off the softener in the laundry room before seeing who the visitor was. Nanaki, who'd been dozing in the sunlight, perked his ears and rose with a feline stretch as Vincent passed him, padding in behind the man.

"I think we have visitors," the cat said in his rough, deep voice. Vincent nodded, listening to the voices in the house. As he was setting the bottle in its place, he identified one voice as Reeve's. So used to normally tuning out the conversations of their house guests, he almost missed the words.

_"Cloud Strife has been found dead"_.

He froze where he was, scarlet eyes widening slightly and fixed unseeing on the simple white of the washing machine. He waited in the moment of dead silence that passed, looked to Red, who appeared equally shocked and somber. Apparently he'd heard it, as well.

The large cat bounded for the front room, with Vincent following a second later. He kept his strides slower, controlled. His face was as unreadable as the day he'd climbed out of his coffin as the shock still held onto his mind. It couldn't be right, Cloud had endured more than that. He'd lost respect for the man for his dealings with Tifa, but he would never argue Cloud's physical stamina and prowess.

It didn't make sense. But then, when did death ever make _sense_? His first coherent thought was, _Planet, she doesn't need this right now... not now. _A second later he admonished himself for not thinking more of the hero of their little band of comrades, then he entered the barroom to see Reno, Rude, and Reeve, along with Cid and Nanaki who'd beat him there.

Peripherally, he saw them. But his eyes fixed on Tifa.

**Tifa: **

"_Cloud Strife has been found dead… Cloud Strife has been found dead…Cloud Strife has been found dead…"_

The words replayed in her mind at least three times before her knees buckled and she collapsed against the table. Cid caught her before she hit the floor, easing her into a chair. Hands clenched in his shirt, she still stared in shock at Reeve, who extended a hand to help, but was warned away by the pilot's scowl and snarl.

Cid eyed the three warily, straightening as he settled Tifa in the chair. "When didit happen?" he demanded harshly.

Reeve spread his hands in a calm placating gesture. "Two days ago, according to forensics. The Junon locals found the site and the authorities took charge and notified us. Being as Cloud is of some significance here in Midgar, we took charge of the particulars and are arranging for transport back to the city."

Reeve blew out a breath and went on. "Cause was reckless driving, reports verify. Eye-witnesses who'd encountered him confirm it; he'd arrived in Junon earlier and tried to set up shop, apparently. Refused on bad credit and tore out of the town. They found the wreck the next day." He looked at Tifa, who was just staring at him in a daze.

"Tifa, I'm so sorry. …I don't really know what else to say."

Behind him, Reno cleared his throat. "Body's down at the morgue, just so's ya know."

Reeve nodded, looking back at the group, now including Nanaki and Vincent. "Yes, should any of you wish to…well, he's there. Again, I wish there was something I could do, Tifa," he repeated.

Her eyes had fallen; she now stared at the floor woodenly.

Cid started to speak, but a quiet, "Thank you, Reeve. We appreciate it," halted his words.

Reeve nodded. "President Shin-Ra will be in touch; he asked me to convey his deepest personal condolences. If you have any wishes as to services, please let me know." With another nod, he and his escorts turned and exited the bar.

Cid watched them go with a bit of loathing, but turned back to Tifa after eyeing the other two. "Tif?" he asked hesitantly, kneeling in front of her chair and peering up at her. "Babe, ya all right?"

She didn't answer; didn't look at him.

"All right, stupid question." He plowed a hand through his hair and exhaled sharply, muttering expletives. Rising, he went to the bar and hauled out the phone, ringing Barret.

**Vincent:**

Vincent breathed in deeply, then out, then in just as deeply. He watched and listened without a word, nodding to Reeve and the Turks as they left in silent thanks for bearing the difficult news and coming in person to tell it. He watched as Tifa refused to respond to Cid, and Nanaki walked to her, neck leveled with his spine as he peered up at her in sympathy.

"Tifa?" the cat questioned softly. At getting the same petrified, shell-shocked stare as Cid, he hung his head, "I'm so very sorry." He looked sadly to Vincent before trotting over to sit next to Cid as he tried to tell Barrett to come back immediately without telling him why.

Vincent walked over to the woman sitting there, looking so completely lost and disbelieving. A part of him hurt at losing someone whom, for his part at least, had been regarded as an ally and friend, even though they had never been remotely close, and high tensions had run between them the last time he'd seen the blond. _The last time_, his mind echoed. But it was one more loss in his life, minor when compared to certain others, as cold as that seemed. What cut deeper was seeing her sitting there, knowing that shock would give way to grief eventually. A kind of deep, wrenching pain. He knew exactly the type. And she and Cloud had parted on bad terms...

_God_, he thought, _What's going to happen to her now? _He knelt before her, speaking softly, his eyes entreating, "Tifa, do you wish to go upstairs for a while? Until Barrett and the others return? Or would you like me to make you some coffee?" She either needed to be alone, or distracted, he guessed. He would worry more if she just sat there, dazed and unresponsive for any longer.

**Tifa:**

Tifa dimly heard words being directed at her, but they seemed to be coming from far beneath dark water, fuzzy and unclear. She turned her head to stare at the speakers, not quite recognizing any of them. Brown eyes blinked, glassy and unfocused. She heard someone arguing far in the distance, then the thump of the phone being dropped. Turning her eyes back, a darkness swam in her vision and she gradually saw scarlet eyes staring at her in earnest, wide and forlorn.

_Oh, that's Vincent. He must have come back from the store…_ sluggishly swirled in her brain. She shook her head mutely to both questions and somehow managed to rise from the chair, rubbery kneed but upright. Placing a hand on the table for balance, she regained equilibrium and managed to walk to the bar and she heard herself ask Cid for Yuffie's cell number. Wordlessly, a bit wary, the pilot dug it from his wallet and handed it over. Tifa took it and vanished into the kitchen, reflexively dialing the number. It rang several times and the ninja's voicemail clicked. Tifa left a short wooden message and hung up.

She gazed around the kitchen, idly wondering just where she was and why she was in here. But the front door opened and Barret, followed by Denzel and Marlene, huffed inside, the large black man grouchily demanding what in hell was wrong.

The kids looked a bit worried at the strained adults faces, but said very little. Cid grabbed Barret and gravely told him the news; Barret reared back and swore vile obscenities under his breath before grief and sorrow cut into him.

Tifa emerged from the kitchen and all eyes turned her way, but she just went to the children and gathered both to her, whispering lowly, "There's been an accident, guys. Cloud's been badly hurt and he's not going to be with us anymore."

There, plain and simple truth. Marlene blinked at her, then wailed and ran to Barret. Denzel took longer to comprehend, staring back at Tifa's dulled eyes and his breathing quickened; he sobbed once before squeezing shut his eyes and throwing his arms around Tifa's neck and burrowing into her, containing his cries with obvious effort. She, in turn, clutched the little boy tight to her and rocked back and forth, keeping their little world together as best as she could. 

**Vincent:**

Vincent watched helplessly as she mechanically went through the motions. He bit the inside of his lips when Marlene ran to Barrett in tears and Denzel absorbed the loss of his hero and lost his father figure a second time in his life. Cid muttered an obscenity under his breath, scuffed the heel of one boot on the floor and pulled out his pack of cigarettes.

"I need to call Shera." With that, he took the phone with him and left the room. Vincent heard the back door slam. Nanaki sat near the end of the bar, head hung and his good eye fixed on the floor in thoughtful sadness, likely drifting in memory.

Vincent looked back at Tifa as she cradled the boy who wept almost silently, not from trying, but because the sobs stole his breath. A numbness kicked in, allowing him to view it all in the detached manner of a trained killer. He knew something similar gave Tifa the automatic words and gestures to handle things as she did now without a complete breakdown, but he knew also that when it finally hit her, the force would be crippling.

When she realized and accepted that Cloud was gone, when no one was around to hold together or comfort, her sorrow would overtake her like a vast wave overcomes a sailor cast overboard. He noted in his detachment, his self-enforced apathy, that there was nothing he could do here. So he simply stood there, in silent observation, separately taking in every detail for later laments, much as he had many, many times before.

**Tifa: **

Cid managed to get in touch with both Yuffie and Shera, informing them of the events. He left that evening to fly to pick them up, promising to return as soon as possible.

Rufus Shin-Ra called the following day, speaking with both Tifa and Barret. "I know this must be a horrible time for you," he said over the speaker-phone, "but know that if there is anything I can do, all you need do is ask." Barret rumbled a response; Tifa merely remained silent.

"I realize that you probably haven't had time to consider, but I'd like to offer suggestions as to services for Cloud. I know you were a tightly knit group, which is why I propose a simple private ceremony for the AVALANCHE members and, due to Cloud's status in Midgar, the country's hero as it were, have a monument built in place of Shin-Ra's former statue, with a dedication service and public attendance. Will that suit you?" He paused for a moment.

Tifa spoke for the first time in hours. "Thank you, Rufus. The rest of our team will be flying in this evening. But I think it would be better suited for everyone if we were to bury Cloud at the Forgotten Capital, where Aeris also entered the Lifestream. I know he would want that," she finished quietly.

Barret nodded response and affirmed this. "Let the city have the service," he rumbled, "and we'll have ours at the Capital."

Rufus acquiesced. "Very well," he said. "It will be done." 

**Vincent:**

While Cid was gone and Tifa and Barrett dealt with the children and Rufus' offer, Vincent stayed mostly to himself, save for the company of the group's only other real misfit in all this. Red stayed by Vincent's side, usually in companionable silence.

Vincent contacted Dezra, Rolfe and William and informed them of the bad news, to which they responded by each coming by and giving heartfelt condolences, especially to Tifa and the kids. He put up a notice on the main door that the bar would be closed until the following Wednesday, when he guessed he and the other employees could run it by themselves if Tifa still hadn't recovered. He knew it might take a lot longer than anyone was prepared for, but he also knew he could manage things and make do for as long as Tifa needed him to. Perhaps she would take work as a distraction, one never could tell. Each person grieved in their own way.

He packed things the children would need, like clothes and snacks for the trip, though he wondered if Denzel would eat at all. Marlene still cried now and then, but she spoke and ate and watched the television, a dulled version of her normal self. Denzel, however, had barely spoken, and had ate even less, stuck in that place of hopelessness one reaches when they have lost what's most important, and knows they will never get it back. Cid returned the day after he'd left, bringing a sober, saddened Yuffie and Shera who offered sympathies to all.

A night was spent at the bar as the party, minus Tifa and the children, reminisced about their leader, the good times, the bad times, and the humorous moments. Vincent was the one pouring the drinks, and counted that they went through a bottle of whiskey and half that much vodka.

Yuffie drank mostly mixed drinks, and Shera was the only one besides Nanaki to remain fully sober. All drank in the honor of Cloud, to his memory, and resolved silently to cherish those left.

The next day, they boarded the _Highwind_ and were on their way to the Ancient City. Reeve and the others would be in charge of transporting Cloud there in their own helicopter.

**Tifa: **

"Baby, you need to eat something," Tifa implored the little boy, in their cabin aboard the ship. Denzel resolutely shook his head, refusing yet again. Tifa sighed and rose to her feet, letting him burrow back into the bed.

Emerging from the bunk, she encountered Shera making her way to the bridge. "No luck?" the other woman asked, concern in her eyes.

Tifa shook her head. "No. He'll come around, I hope."

Shera squeezed Tifa's shoulder gently. "And how are _you_ doing?" she asked, eyes searching Tifa's face.

Tifa just shrugged and gave a half-smile. "Fine."

Knowing it was bull, Shera merely nodded. "Okay. We're almost there."

Tifa nodded in response. ""All right. Thanks."

They arrived in the waning of afternoon; Cid expertly managing to wedge the craft in a clearing between the trees. Reeve and the Turks were already in place, their chopper hidden a few yards back. Rufus Shin-Ra was present, his condition still requiring use of a wheelchair but he came forward to greet each team member in turn.

But AVALANCHE's attention was focused on the shiny black casket that sat atop a velveted bier just a few feet away. Rufus graciously had it opened and within lay Cloud Strife amid the white satin, eyes closed and hands folded over his chest as if in quiet repose. He'd been dressed in dark conservative silk rather than his usual garments. A few cuts and bruises, now forever unhealed, decorated his face and hands, testament to the accident which had claimed his life. Shin-Ra's personnel withdrew and allowed the others their quiet moments alone with their former leader.

Barret and Marlene went first, the little girl sobbing quietly into her father's neck. Barret said a few comforting words, both to Cloud and his daughter, before stepping away and Cid and Shera approached. The pilot scuffed his boots and wiped the back of his hand across his eyes. Yuffie followed them, placing a small ball of materia inside the casket, smiling through her tears. "Never know if you'll need it, Cloud," she whispered hoarsely.

Nanaki and Vincent approached to stand beside the bier, the large cat whispering blessings in his native tongue. After a few moments, they moved away and everyone looked at Tifa and Denzel. She still had hold of the little boy's hand and led him to Cloud's side. Small fingers came to rest atop the edge of the casket, clenching the white silk. Denzel's blue eyes misted and tears streamed down his cheeks. One little hand reached out to touch Cloud's and Tifa's heart broke. "Cloud…" she heard him say sadly, "…please don't go…we're sorry…"

Tifa scarcely felt the hot tears on her own face as she silently echoed Denzel's sentiments. Denzel's sobs broke and he put his forehead to the casket's edge and cried. Tifa couldn't even comfort him; his grief was too fresh, too raw. It cut her very soul. Dimly, blinded by her own tears, she felt someone gently lift Denzel and take him away, his sobs lessening with the distance and she was left alone, salty drops splashing the white silk.

In a mirrored gesture, she stroked Cloud's chill hand, unable to even form coherent thought. He was lying there, peaceful and serene, nearly ready to wake up from the dream. He had to. He couldn't leave her. She couldn't go on without him…

"Cloud…" she whispered, hearing the rush of air in her ears and suddenly the world went white.

**Vincent:**

The group watched in silent agony as the one closest to Cloud finally began to break down beside his body. Shera now tried to comfort Denzel with soft, meaningless words and a gentle hug. The boy leaned into her as he cried, almost limp. Vincent noted the quiet sobs and sniffles, the covert hands brushing quickly at eyes, as reality set in and told everyone present that Cloud was indeed gone. The sorrow in the atmosphere was palpable.

Vincent shed no tears, still expertly hardened to the situation and to the pain of those around him... and to his own pain. He silently cursed his acute hearing, and his will to continue to listen to every hitch in her breath, every half-whispered plea, every ragged sob pushed so quietly lungs that could barely catch enough air. His eyes widened as she crumpled, and though others started for her in worry, he was at her side barely a second after her fall. He gathered her up, pushing the others away with no more than a stern look, "She's just fainted."

The group backed off in hushed murmurs, all unable and unwilling to guess how much it must have hurt her to cause such a strong woman to be overcome like that. He carried Tifa a small distance away from the group, laying her on soft grass and gently trying to wake her as Cid cleared his throat and began a small speech about Cloud, buying a little time for Tifa to recover.

He adjusted his ever-present goggles and pursed his lips before beginning, hands on his hips. "Cloud was... a good leader. And a better friend. He, um, he wasn't always the life of the party, but he sure made us laugh a few times. Usually at his expense." He chuckled mirthlessly, and was the only one to do so. He coughed and continued.

"He was a hero. Never mind that he never made SOLDIER first class, or even became a SOLDIER at all. Never mind that he started with us without even a memory to call his own, went through hell and back to find who he really was, and was damn near broken when he did find out." He glanced at Tifa and wiped his eyes. "And never mind the times when he was being a stubborn idiot who didn't know what was good for him. He went from being a small-town nobody, to saving us and everything we ever loved, hell, everything _anyone_ has ever cared about. And the boy had compassion in him, and enough faith to believe in us when we were all at our worst. He gave us a way out, knowing it could mean he'd fight a madman all by his lonesome, knowing he could die. When Meteor was comin' down and all seemed lost, he never gave up. Life wasn't easy for him... but _fuck_, I hope it was good."

Misty eyes that matched the sky he loved so much turned downward as he chewed his lip for a moment. "So here's to Spike. Yuffie?" He gestured and Yuffie stepped forward, singing softly a Wutain dirge of passing over Cloud's prone form, blessing him in the Lifestream. Vincent sighed and persisted gently until Tifa's eyes fluttered open.

**Tifa: **

Tifa didn't want to wake. The whiteness was so soothing. But darkness kept intervening, calling her back from blessed numbness. Brown eyes blinked open to see Vincent's blurry face, peering intently down at her. She moaned in pain, not physical but emotional, scarred and fettered. Her eyes closed again as Yuffie's voice rose over the din between her ears, the pure sweet song rising on the evening air.

With Vincent's silent support, Tifa managed to regain her fee and Denzel flew to her. She held him close as Rufus's honor guard silently closed the casket and bore it to the water's edge. The men then stepped into the water, bearing their burden between them. When they reached the center of the stream, they paused and, at some hidden signal, simultaneously released their hold, allowing the gleaming casket to be borne away to the depths of the Lifestream.

AVALANCHE stood upon the bank and watched silently, bearing living testament to one of their number who had fallen, a soul now taken to eternal peace and rest.

Rufus approached quietly and said, "I am truly sorry for your loss. Again, if there is anything needed or that I can do, do not hesitate to ask."

Cid nodded. "'At's 'preciated."

Rufus nodded and withdrew with his men, departing for their helio.

Nanaki came to stand beside Denzel, putting the boy between himself and Tifa. His large head rubbed Denzel's arm. "Do not worry, Denzel," he intoned solemnly, "you will see Cloud again. One day." But Denzel was not to be comforted. He turned away and hid his face in Tifa's hip. She stroked his hair, her eyes dry and dull once more.

"Well," Cid drawled quietly, "let's go, y'all. Ain't nothing' else left here for us."

**Vincent:**

All were in the _Highwind_ shortly, and the way back to New Midgar was quiet. Once there, Yuffie, Nanaki, Cid and Shera all agreed to stay within their old quarters on the ship, and Marlene talked Barrett into staying as well, with her. She'd quote the reason being that she'd never gotten the chance to sleep on the aircraft before, but even she knew that no comfort could be given to Tifa or Denzel, only space.

Vincent knew everyone expected him to stay as well, but he politely declined in favor of escorting the Tifa and the distraught little boy back to their home, where he would stay in case he was needed for anything. At the least, he could answer any calls that came in, and make sure Tifa didn't completely fall apart. He knew the effects of pain that strong, and knew it could extend into the physically hazardous in many forms.

Thus, just after dark, he played his role as escort, as everyone else stayed aboard the _Highwind_, drained emotionally and each needing a good night's sleep. He used his key to unlock the door, let them in and closed it behind them, inquiring, "Do you need anything to eat or drink?" He was still running on those deeply-ingrained habits, tuning out any feelings brought by seeing the emptiness in her eyes, and in Denzel's.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note:** **_Please_** see the notation in the first chapter.

**Disclaimer: **We, in no way whatsoever, own anything of and pertaining to the _Final Fantasy VII _or _Advent Children_ works; that right belongs to other fortunate souls. We also reap no monetary benefits from this exercise in literary creativity.

_**Chapter Twelve:**_

**Tifa: **

Upon arriving home, Denzel went straight upstairs to his room, closing the door behind him. Tifa let him go, knowing that he needed to work through this on his own. Although it hurt her heart to see him bear such an awful burden. She moved woodenly around the main room, not really seeing anything and ended up in the kitchen, looking up in answer to Vincent's question.

"Hm? Oh, no thank you, Vincent. I think I'll just go to bed. I'm really tired." So saying, she moved past him and disappeared upstairs. Collecting clean clothes, she went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, stepping under the spray and closing her eyes. _I can handle this_, she thought _I am an adult and I can handle it._ So…why did she still feel so lost?

**Vincent:**

He watched her ascend the stairs after Denzel, her eyes hollow. He stood at the bottom of the stairway for a few minutes, deliberating on what, if anything, he could do. With a sigh, he went into the kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee, sitting at the table and taking in the finality of the last few days' events. Cloud was dead, gone, leaving all of them with some empty void to fill. Some with a void left by a hero, a friend, or a leader.

For Tifa, he knew the space was large and gaping like a critical wound, left behind with the knowledge that the man she'd loved, that she'd invested so much time in, was never - not _ever_ - coming back. They would never rebuild the friendship they had. They would never share special moments again. All hope that he might come to his senses was gone, because Cloud himself was gone. And they'd parted on bad terms, something he worried about.

The void left in Vincent from Cloud's departure was the helplessness he felt now, watching Tifa go through the motions with the inevitability that the worst was yet to come. He didn't doubt that she was just holding herself together for the sake of the children, particularly Denzel. It's what she'd been doing when Vincent had come to live with them. He was there to help... but he couldn't help in this, except that he knew exactly the kind of loss she felt. When his mug was empty, he placed it in the sink and went upstairs to retire for the night.

**Tifa: **

Barret, Cid and company arrived around nine the following morning, bearing breakfast. Shera and Yuffie spread the bags across the bar, the smells of hot food delectable. Denzel was in the living room, quietly watching early morning cartoons. He curled into a corner of the couch, wrapped in a coverlet. Marlene found and clambered up beside him, burrowing into the spread. Nanaki followed, settling his bulk across the couch as well. Tifa had yet to appear downstairs and no one thought to disturb her were she sleeping. Over coffee, Barret and Cid all but cornered Vincent.

"So," the black man said, easing down with his coffee cup, "how's everyone this mornin'?"

Cid lit a cigarette, exhaling a near perfect smoke ring. "Me and Barret been talkin'," he began, leaning back in his chair, "about what to do now."

Barret nodded. "This whole thing has to be a nightmare for Tif. We was thinkin' 'bout what we could do to help out some." He sighed heavily. "I know it's been rough, us bein' gone and all and Cloud…" he trailed off then scowled at himself. He and Cid exchanged a meaningful glance. "I know Tif wants to do some remodelin' to _Heaven_. Any ideas?"

**Vincent:**

Vincent raised a brow. He hadn't thought more into the business lately, with all that had been going on, but he could see how it might be the thing to help her. The place as it was now, aside from being too small for their average number of customers on the weekends, also held too many memories. He swirled the coffee in his cup with a plastic stirrer thoughtfully.

"Well, her primary goal was to turn _Heaven_ into a place more suitable for the name. Attract clientele from a broader spectrum, and still maintain an enjoyable atmosphere. Her plans were to eventually buy the lot next door, demolish the house there, and expand the building. She wanted to add a dance floor, a stage, a billiards room. We'd also talked about the need to extend the bar and dining area, by as much as twice the size it is now, but the blueprints haven't been drawn yet. She also wanted to expand the upstairs, and add onto the living quarters there."

Vincent paused and sighed, brushing long fingers through his unruly bangs. "I've done the research, and it'll cost a minimum of ninety thousand gil excluding the extra decor, and that was with plans to do as much of the work ourselves as possible, and barring any further increases on the cost of materials. We've managed to save almost fifteen thousand gil."

He was thankful at least that the owner of the lot next door had come down a little on the price, but they were still a ways away from where they needed to be in order to get things started.

**Tifa: **

Barret's eyebrows lifted at the sum; Cid snorted surprise into his coffee cup. "Damnations, _that_ much?" he exclaimed, sitting the cup down. At Vincent's nod, he whistled through his teeth.

Barret leaned back, eyes narrowed in introspection. "Hmm, lemme think on it a bit…" After a moment of chin-tapping thoughtfulness, he lumbered to his feet and meandered towards the phone at the bar, dialing a series of numbers. "This here's Barret Wallace," he drawled into the receiver, "I need to talk with Rufus Shin-Ra…"

Three days later, Tifa gazed around Costa del Sol in a bit of dazed wonderment. She and the kids had been bundled up and bustled into the _Highwind_ by the group, despite her protestations to the contrary. When she tartly inquired of the goings-on, she only received knowing grins in return. She'd considered grilling Vincent about it, but he just gave her his blank face and said nothing. They'd arrived on the coast only that morning and even now, Barret was hauling suitcases from the airship onto a waiting trolly-taxi. She put hands on her hips and arched an eyebrow at him. He deposited the luggage then turned to her, putting his flesh arm around her shoulders.

"Aw, don't worry none, Tifa," he soothed, squeezing softly. "We're takin' care of everythin'."

Tifa snorted wryly. "That's what frightens me."

Barret feigned mock hurt and jostled her good-naturedly. "C'mon, Tif'," he drawled. "I told you, Rufus ok'ayed it and _Heaven_'ll be fine. Valentine knows what he's doin' and they'll have the blueprints shipped here for you to okay." He enveloped her in a genuine hug. "Let us worry fer ya, fer once."

She sighed, sniffling and hugged him back. "Thanks, Barret," she said quietly.

Cid puffed over, thumping the last suitcase on the taxi. "Gawd," he drawled, lighting another cigarette, "don't see how a two-week stay can use all them clothes."

Shera, coming up behind him, tartly told him to hush, to which he snorted and rolled eyes, and turned to Tifa. "Tifa, please relax, okay? Denzel is going to be _fine_. And you could certainly use the vacation. Enjoy the beach. Drink martinis you don't have to make yourself."

Tifa chuckled and returned Shera's hug. "Thanks. And tell Rufus thanks, too, when you guys chance to talk to him."

The use of the bungalow beach-house was indeed generous. The now-president Shin-Ra had divided his father's old resort residence into several cottages available for rent during the summer months. Barret's call had appropriated a donation of fifty thousand gil to the remodeling of _Heaven_ and the gracious free two-week vacation here in Costa del Sol in one of the private houses.

Barret had taken it upon himself to take both Marlene and Denzel with him upon returning to work, since the little girl had been begging since forever. Nanaki was also accompanying them. They'd dropped Yuffie in Wutai yesterday, and Cid and Shera planned to return home after this. Vincent had remained in Midgar to oversee the start of the project with _Heaven_ and would join Tifa in Del Sol in a few days as no one considered it prudent to leave her alone _too_ long.

Getting settled took about an hour or so, then after lunch and fond farewells, with Cid swearing he'd be back in two weeks to pick them up, Tifa watched with a heavy heart as the _Highwind_ took flight then disappeared over the horizon. Returning to the bungalow, she felt slightly odd, standing in the middle of the living room with absolutely nothing to do. A vacation. What a strange thing…

**Vincent:**

With Tifa gone, alone with everyone else, the bar seemed rather empty. Vincent spent the time well, making arrangements with a draftsman and an architect about the blueprints and answering a few last questions the men had, in order to optimize the plans so that no space was wasted, even given the size of the project. While the plans were drawn up, Vincent busied himself with arranging for all the ongoing paperwork to be sent to the cottage for the first two weeks, then forwarded to Cid and Shera's place. He made runs to various lumber companies, masons, carpenters, plumbers and electricians, though he'd done so once already.

This time, however, he compared the quality of work to the price, and found in some cases cheaper was not better, and made the list of those fitting best with the work required of them. He even went as far as to begin collecting bids on the work. Vincent did so much talking the first day that his throat was hoarse. He collapsed in his bed late that night, exhausted from more than just the days' events.

Sleep eluded him, however. He realized that this was the first night in months that he'd spent entirely alone in a place, save when he'd loosed his demons to sate themselves. He hadn't been himself then, yet now he had the sense to think about the small, pestering loneliness that crept up on him. Where were the sounds of the kids breathing and mumbling in their sleep? Of the shower running, Tifa humming to herself as she worked? Of her sighing as she slept... The house was so quiet. Normally he'd have liked it, months ago. But now it just seemed... wrong.

Bare skin still shower-damp, he rolled onto his side and stared at the clock, willing sleep to come. One-fifteen turned to two-thirty, then to four, bringing nothing but thoughts on how his life had changed these past months, and how he sincerely hoped no more changes were in store. Not because he disliked how things had been, but because he was afraid of losing what he had gained. He might never admit it to anyone - well, maybe to Tifa one day - but he had to admit it to himself. Change was difficult, and not always for the better. Yet Cloud was gone now, and everyone in their group would be changed forever. Tifa's life was changed forever, and Vincent wasn't sure if she could recover.

Once, at the end of his wit before he was put into stasis, Vincent had found himself unable to cope with what had been done to him. He'd slit his left wrist, then watched it heal in front of his eyes even as he retched in agony. He had tried the other one, slit it vertically from wrist to elbow, but the new abilities he'd been cursed with took over every time he tried. Barely a scar remained on his right arm, noticeable only in bright lighting and easily mistaken by his sloppiness at the time as a battle-wound. It had been then that he'd realized that his reward for his part in the despair brought into the world was his inability to die like anyone else might, for he had to live and pay for his sins. Later, he knew that was best for everyone, and only right. He couldn't, however, forget the despair that brought him so low.

Tifa would never do that... would she? No, he told himself firmly. She was stronger than that. She had to be.

**Tifa: **

Tifa spent the following morning arranging her things in the small cottage. By noon she was comfortably ensconced on the beach beneath a large umbrella. Head pillowed on her arms, she merely sunned herself like a happy lizard on a warm rock, slowly starting to feel her body finally relax, now that there were no demands on it. No children needing to be taken care of, no business to be done, no chores to tend to. But the ever present niggle wormed its way into her consciousness.

Memories of her last visit to this place. _With Cloud and the others…_ The warmth on her skin turned to icy numbness inside and she opened brown eyes in mild shock. _Cloud is dead_, flitted through her mind once again. _No, he'll be home soon_. She shook her head and sat up, turning to gaze out over the crystal blue water, seeing nothing but the casket in her mind's eye once more. His still face, so quiet and serene. At peace. _Why?_ Didn't he know they needed him at home? She shivered in the sun's bright warmth. It was giving her a headache.

Tifa gathered her towel and umbrella and went inside, where she nearly drove herself to distraction in need of activity. How she _wished_ Vincent were here! How she wished _anyone_ was here! She couldn't handle this _stagnation_, it would drive her mad in a hurry. Ah, a stroll about town might be nice. But the memories were unforgiving, she realized as she walked the cobbled streets of del Sol, for everywhere she looked, she saw their past adventures, Barret haggling with the weapons-master, Yuffie being thrown out of that shop and Cloud getting everyone settled at the Inn… Her eyes misted. _Cloud…why won't you come home…?_

**Vincent:**

The next day, Vincent rose after a mere two hours of barely dozing. He took a cold shower, just to feel a bit more refreshed. It kept him awake, but no less tired. He chuckled softly at himself for getting so used to the routine they'd had. He didn't really need much sleep at all, for days he could go without, but his body _wanted_ it, because it had gotten spoiled. Along with the rest of him, it seemed.

He had a breakfast of toast with grape jelly and coffee, three cups, before milling about town and collecting the paperwork for the bids submitted by the various people and companies he'd talked to, each report detailing the price of the jobs both with the cost of material added to the bill and the cost for each job by itself with the supplies provided to them. He packed these and his few belongings. He even dropped off any perishable foods left to the orphanage, knowing that Nadine could use everything and wouldn't let a crumb go to waste, as would otherwise happen. Done with preparations, Vincent lounged on the couch until he began to doze, finally sprawled out on the cushions, mouth open and TV remote still in hand.

**Tifa: **

The foul mouthed captain picked his way through town, more than a bit nonplussed that Midgar's airport was nearly all the way across town from Tifa's place. But he saved his breath for walking and finally spied the familiar rake of _Heaven_. God, all he wanted to do was sling Valentine out on the beach and get his sappy ass back home to his beloved workshop where he could mole away in peace. Yes, let's get right to that, shall we.

Going around back, he wiggled the door knob just so and it opened easily. Meandering into the living room, from which he heard the television blaring, he spied Valentine sprawled across the couch, looking like he'd just been hung, cut down and flung there. A brow rose as he snerked. "Soddy bastard," he drawled with a chuckle. Approaching, he carefully nudged Vincent's boot with his own.

"Hey, wake up, Sunshine. Day's a-wastin' and ya should snooze in yer coffin." He retrieved the remote and flicked off the television. Sparing a glance back, he grumbled a bit louder with a firmer nudge. "Yo! Open yer damned eyes, boy!"

**Vincent:**

He was having the most wonderful dream. In it, among many other oddities that dreams often carry, such as strange cameos and shifting landscape, Cloud was alive. Alive, and still an idiot. Aeris was alive, and she and Cloud wandered off somewhere together. He and Tifa were standing atop a cliff overlooking the ocean, and she was smiling serenely. His left hand was just that, a human hand. Somewhere behind him he heard Denzel and Marlene laughing, and Barret's gruff voice chortling with them.

"Do you miss Cloud?" he heard himself asking her.

She smiled and shook her head, "No. He's where he belongs. As am I." Then she took his hand, eyes warm, and leaned closer...

"_Wake up Sunshine!_" In the dream, Vincent turned toward the irritating sound as it ruined the entire moment. _What the hell is he doing here?_ A nudge brought him to wakefulness, quite against his will.

"Open your damn eyes, boy!" Red eyes did open, blinked as he frown and groaned softly, realizing his mouth was entirely dry, then opened again as he sat up.

"What... time is it?" he croaked.

Cid smirked, "Time fer you to get yer ass up. Damn, I _wish_ I'd have had my camera with me..."

Vincent harrumphed softly. "Funny. I'll be ready in a few minutes." He went to the kitchen, made himself some instant coffee, picked up his duffel and attaché case and the two were on their way.

**Tifa: **

Tifa was napping. Nothing pressing to do had her restless, until she'd grown overly comfortable on the settee and slipped into a light sleep. Which grew deeper as the hours progressed. She looked around, a bit confused as to where she was. The ocean crashed against the sand below and the grassy slope of a high hill beckoned. She attempted to crest it, instinctively knowing something awaited her at the summit. But her feet kept slipping on the grass! Laughing at herself, she kept trying to climb the hill, only to finally slip to her knees and roll back down.

Giggling madly, she opened her eyes to see Cloud standing beside her, shaking his head as he looked at her. She grinned at him and he returned the smile, extending a hand to pull her up.

"You're such a klutz," he fondly teased and she giggled again.

"So?" she retorted. "I might be a klutz, but you're a goofball."

He laughed and chucked her chin. "Nyah."

Tifa's heart suddenly ached with a sadness she couldn't explain. Inexplicably, the sky suddenly turned dark and Cloud started, looking around in worry.

"Tifa," he said seriously, "you gotta get to the top of the hill." He began to push her towards it.

"Cloud, what-"

But he was relentless and the sky grew darker and cold wind whipped the grasses. "Tifa!" he nearly shouted, cutting off her protestations, "you gotta get up there!"

A massive roaring sounded behind them and Cloud swore, surprising her. He was never one for profanity, at least, not around her. Fear shook her and she began to scramble up the hill. Gazing at the top, she could just barely make out a dark silhouette, shrouded against the swirling skies.

"Go on," Cloud demanded, looking behind them intently, "get up there. He'll protect you."

Her breath coming in stuttered bursts, Tifa scrambled for all she was worth, the grass nearly as slick as glass beneath her hands and feet. As they reached the summit, Cloud a bit below her, a golden gauntlet extended and Tifa grabbed at it, slicing her skin on the sharp talons but not caring.

"H-help!" she stammered and gasped as the claws closed around her wrist. But a human hand joined and she was pulled the rest of the way, regaining her feet in a familiar dark embrace. Getting a breath, she stared wide eyed into the pale countenance of Vincent Valentine, wine-red eyes searching her face in concern.

"Are you all right?" he intoned in his deep baritone.

Involuntary shivers danced down her spine. "Y-yes," she managed. Then remembered Cloud. "Cloud!" she yelled, turning to head back down the hill, but Vincent's grip stopped her.

"No, Tifa," he negated, keeping firm hold on her waist. "You can't go back down there."

She struggled and wept, but it was to no avail. Tears clouded her eyes as she frantically searched the bottom for Cloud, only to see him borne away in a casket of deepest black, resting atop white satin. The coming darkness yawned its gaping maw and swallowed it, gone forever to her shocked eyes. She struggled to follow, but Vincent held her tight. "Let me go!" she screamed and thrashed wildly. "_Cloud! No! Don't leave me!_"

Despite Vincent's firm hold, she continued to fight it. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! I didn't know! Please! I'm sorry! Don't go!" Something smacked her forehead and she screamed again, this time in real pain as her own arm flailed her forehead.

Tifa bolted upright and screamed again, still in shock and horror from the vivid nightmare. Dimly, she heard rattling at the door and an achingly familiar baritone calling her name over and over but she couldn't move.

**Vincent:**

The _Highwind_ set down just outside of town, have no place closer to the cottage to land. The city had developed consistently in the past two and a half years, and there was never a shortage of tourists or peddlers. There was a shortage on inns, but that was being remedied as two new establishments were in the works. Vincent noted that Cid kept the engines running as he accompanied him to the hatch.

Carrying his duffel and case, Vincent paused before exiting, "You aren't coming with me to see her?"

Pursing his lips, Cid shook his head, eyes down. "Nah, I know it ain't right. But it hurts, ya know? Seeing her all... mopey. I'd never expect anything else in this kinda situation, and I guess we're lucky she's as strong as she is. I just don't want to see her with her eyes all empty like that. Makes me a damn fucking lout, I know. But I just can't do it right now."

Vincent nodded as the blond met his eyes in a guilty look. "I understand. We'll keep in touch, then."

Cid bobbed his head once and opened the hatch door, "You do that. And Vince?"

Vincent raised a brow at the nickname and the sincere tone behind it, but showed his full attention.

"You make sure she gets through this. All right? Fuck if I know why... but you're good with her." Well, Cid knew the short version of why. _Vincent could have written the book on rejection, loss and the way life can fuck you over_, he thought.

The pilot was mildly surprised when Vincent smiled a little, still melancholy as he always seemed to look, and nodded. "I'll do what I can. Thanks for doing everything you have. Tell Barret the same, I didn't get the chance. It means a lot to her." _Say it_. "And I know it would mean as much to Cloud."

That appeared to lighten the man's mental load just a bit, as he grinned and clapped Vincent lightly on the shoulder. "See ya in about two weeks then, Sunshine."

At Vincent's immediate frown, Cid only laughed. A moment later Vincent was on the ground walking toward town and the _Highwind_ was taking to the air again, and in a hurry. He must have a project, Valentine thought to himself.

Ten minutes later, after meandering through the streets as quickly as possible, Vincent reached the paved walkway leading to the bungalow, only to pause at the sound of Tifa's voice. Soft, almost drowned by the ebb and flow of the waves, even to his sensitive ears. He picked up his pace, reached the door and knocked. "Tifa?"

No answer, only more mumbling, louder.

_"I'm sorry! Please! Don't go!" _

He knocked louder, then banged with the flat of his hand, "Tifa? _Tifa!_" He called over and over, and at her scream he turned rattled the knob, still calling. Finally having enough, he twisted it none-too-gently and forced the lock. He'd be somewhat thankful later that it gave without noticeable damage to the knob or catch, but at that moment he only wanted to be sure she was all right.

He found her lying on the couch, eyes wide and tearing. Vincent set his things down and approached her slowly, stopping an arm's length from the couch. To ask if she were all right would be stupid, so he simply stayed silent, staring at her.

**Tifa: **

The door opened, making her gasp and jerk upright, only to topple to the floor, tangled in the afghan. Tifa gasped broken sobs and fought her way free, jerking the coverlet and only succeeding in getting further snared. Managing to sit up, she lifted swollen tear-glazed eyes to Vincent, hiccupping in her misery.

_Cloud_…

Her eyes squeezed closed again and she cried, lowering her forehead to her raised knee. Searing memories of their last words flamed across her brain, forcing a strangled shriek from her lungs.

_We needed you _here_, damnit! _I_ needed you… _

_I couldn't be her hero, her champion! I _failed_…_

_I'm _tired_ of waiting for you to get over it! If you were trying, it'd be different, but you're still _dragging it around_…_

_I let her die, Tifa… _

_It's going to _kill_ you one of these days, Cloud…_

But no, his pain hadn't killed him, _hers_ had. Guilt and sorrow slammed across her soul like a meteor, a tidal wave against the shore. Gaia, had she not exploded at him, he wouldn't have left in a rage, wouldn't have been blinded by her rejection and impatience.

_Cloud_…

Tifa wailed, breath ripping in and out of her body, chest heaving with the chaos of emotion that assailed her mind. She collapsed back against the couch, burying her face in the cushions as she shook with hysterics.

**Vincent:**

He watched her fall in a tangled heap, try to kick her way out of the coverlet and finally collapse in further hysterics against the couch. Her sobs were so ragged that he knew she could barely breathe. Black brows furrowed low over concerned crimson eyes as he gathered her in his arms and sat with her on the sofa. He held her in his lap, much like another time that now seemed so distant, and so much preferable to the current situation.

He knew she wasn't all right. Had the dam of her emotions just broken? Or had she been alone here, in this state, for the past two days? His chin rested atop her head as he stroked her back with his right hand, his left resting carefully on her side. There was nothing he could say to comfort her. She could be feeling guilt, loss, anger, any combination of negative emotions, and he needed to know what was going through her head.

"Tifa... talk to me," he whispered.

**Tifa: **

She was boneless, rigidity would require effort. Which she was quite unable to expend just now. Tifa dimly felt Vincent approach and move her, settling back on the couch. Her arms hugged herself; she felt unable to bear another touch right now. _Shame_…Talk? Tifa was unable to even open her eyes, much less string together any coherent words.

Thus it took her nearly five minutes before she mustered enough breath to get out, "…I k-killed…him, Vincent!" Rage eaten guilt stiffened her as she heard the words and she choked back another ragged wail. "H-he was s-so angry…! He w-wanted to h-hit me but he l-left ins-stead…and n-now he's…_d-dead_!"

Nails cut into her skin as her fingers gripped, small droplets of blood welled. Teeth bit the inside of her lip and she cried harder. She shook her head violently, unable to express anything further. She should have listened, should have waited, should have been there, should have been unselfish, should have, should have, should have…

**Vincent:**

He closed his eyes. So that was it, something he had dreaded and yet was all too familiar with. With a few quick motions, the talons of his left hand were removed and fell to the cushion beside them. Then his left hand slid gloved fingers through her hair and pressed her head gently to his shoulder as his right arm tightened around her, as if to hold her together. The ache inside him that had formed when he saw her on the floor intensified, and it took a moment for him to gather the words.

"It wasn't your fault, Tifa. Cloud left on his own. He would have left anyway. He always did, and if it wasn't this it could easily have been something else that killed him." When he opened his eyes they stung, and the words he spoke next echoed hollowly in his own heart, his deepest pain brought to the surface and his biggest flaw exposed. Still, he couldn't stop the words from coming, "You couldn't have known what would happen... it wasn't your fault."

Years of damning himself, years of guilt over something that happened over three decades ago, years of self-inflicted torment all came rushing back with those words and he realized how stupid he had been, and still was. Lucrecia would have done what she wanted no matter what he'd said or done to stop her. Sephiroth would have still grown up in the cold environment of Hojo's lab, and would have still been injected with Jenova cells from before birth. Hojo would still have had his little favorite science project, and there was nothing Vincent could have done back then to stop it.

And the final admission of that hurt more than carrying the guilt that came so easily.

**Tifa: **

It took Tifa a few moments to muddle through his words in her present state. But finally her eyes blinked open and she slowly sat up, unknowingly pulling away from him. Shattered brown eyes met haunted crimson as Tifa stared at Vincent. Her mouth opened, but no words came forth. Until several deep breaths later. Tifa's face closed down; all expression left her. She saw the stricken look on his own face but it didn't register right away.

"…you, of _all_ people, have no _right_ to say that to me, Vincent," she answered woodenly. She rose from his lap, standing on shaky legs, but somehow upright. "I failed Cloud by pushing too hard. You failed Lucrecia _and_ Sephiroth by not standing up to Hojo. So we're both guilty."

Unable to stomach it further, Tifa wailed again and whirled around, stumbling into the bedroom and slamming the door behind her to collapse across the bed, weeping uncontrollably. But she didn't cry over Cloud's death. She cried because her shame and guilt were relentlessly eating at her tender heart and would eventually render it a barren ash-laden waste.

**Vincent:**

He let her go, watched her get up, and absorbed her words silently. Then she stalked off to the bedroom, and the slam of the door added to the finality of her convictions, just because she wanted to believe them. Whether they were true or not, she believed because it was easier. There were two kinds of fucked-up people in the world. Those who blamed everything on everyone else, never accepting any responsibility, and those who blamed everything on themselves, taking on the burden of other people's sins as lambs to the slaughter.

Well, now he knew it was time to see at least a few truths, and be _damned_ if he would let her hole up and wallow in self-loathing in her bed as he had done in his coffin. The lost countenance was replaced with anger as he stood, stalked tot he bedroom and swung the door open so hard that it hit the wall. He narrowed his eyes at her as he stood in the doorway.

"Do you want to know the truth?" he asked darkly, sounding stone cold for the first time in months. "I failed in a lot of things, Tifa. My biggest mistake has always been my blindness, my complete inability to see the truth before it's too late. I _tried_ to stop Lucrecia. I _did_ stand up to Hojo, and I fucked up by doing so with my words instead of a bullet. Yes, if I could predict the future I'd have done a lot of things differently. I hate that it's taken seeing you like this to make me realize how utterly futile all my guilt has been, but I know I was wrong. And _you're_ wrong.

"I loved Lucrecia, did everything I knew to do to show her, but she didn't love me more than she loved her work, her research. Cloud loved you to a degree, Tifa, but his heart was already more in the Lifestream than it was here, and you _know_ it. Would he have ever been happy here without _her_? He was a good man, a good leader, a hero, but he was stupid for the way he treated you, the way he used you. You were tired of it and simply stood up for yourself. It was his own anger that drove him away. You could have let it slide, let him go on thinking he could do as he pleased, but he could just as easily have tried to stay. If he wanted to, don't you think he would have?"

He was snapping at her now, raising his voice. He didn't care; he plowed on, venting all that he'd silently mulled over the past few days. "Mourn him. Cry for him, for your loss. I _know_ you love him, I know a part of you always will. But don't gather all the blame to yourself like I did! Don't you _dare_ be like me, Tifa. You're better than that, _stronger_ than that. I didn't see what would happen to Lucrecia and her son. But I see where this will lead you, because I walked the same path. And I will be damned before I sit back and do _nothing_ while I watch you walk it too!"

That all said, he had to pause and breathe deeply. He realized belatedly that his vision was slightly blurred, and raised his right hand to find moisture on his lashes. He broke his gaze from her and fixed it on the floor, but remained in the doorway, unmoving and waiting for her comeback as he chewed the inside of his lip.

**Tifa: **

Tifa belatedly jerked up as the door slammed open and she gasped, wide-eyed as Vincent stormed in. Her lower lip still trembled and tears scored hot trails down her cheeks. Caught completely by surprise at Vincent's vehemence, she could only stare at him, eyes shocked, through his tirade. When she digested the words, they drove cold iron spikes directly into her heart, making fresh tears stream down her face. For every word he spoke was truth. And that was the damnable misery of it.

In her heart, Tifa wanted to give into the basic human desire, wallow in her guilt and self-pity. For no one else would do so for her. She had to be everyone else's rock; it seemed there was no boulder strong enough to support _her_. She'd once thought of her support as Cloud, but in reality, it'd been her _perception_ of the man she thought Cloud to be and now that he was gone, that smokescreen was obliterated. Stark and alone. _Weak_.

Vincent stopped and looked down at the floor; Tifa's self-loathing fueled her return anger and she suddenly screeched, yanking off her sandals in a fit of temper and flinging both at Vincent's head. In her wild trajectory, she missed, the shoes thunking the wall and door behind and beside him, but she wasn't to be sated with that, either. Jolting off the bed, she lunged at him, nails extended to beat the everloving shit out of the man, for making her look at herself and be disgusted by what she saw mewling there.

**Vincent:**

He looked at her as she shrieked her rage at him, and his frustration intensified as she lunged at him. He stood rooted where he was and let her have her way, though his expression remained hardened and angry. It was something besides anger at herself, at least. He'd once told her that he'd be there for her, to talk to, scream at, or hit if need be, and he would not go back on his word. If she needed to vent her rage, he would be her punching bag, though he was thankful that she wasn't in the state of mind to use moves the likes of which he'd seen her use in battle. He knew she was also weakened from grief, but even weaker than usual, she was a force to be reckoned with.

What she did was nothing that couldn't heal, but it did hurt. He almost staggered back as she railed on him with clenched fists and nails, and when he nothing but glare at her, she slapped him, once, twice. The third strike was intercepted as both his hands clamped hard in a vice grip upon her wrists. He'd had enough. Jerking her forward to crash into him, he held her arms in place, wrists level with her shoulders as blood-red eyes bore into brown.

"Are you done?" he asked. He was hurt less by the bruises and scratches she left behind than the fact that she wanted to inflict them, but he knew she wasn't thinking straight, and his words had brought forth her rage. His glare softened somewhat, though he was still angry.

**Tifa: **

_Gaia_, it felt good to hit something! But her temper spiked as Vincent only _stood_ there and took it! _No!_ Tifa's lips thinned in frustration anew and she felt dizzily elated at the sharp pain in her palm as it cracked across that perfect pale face. She hit him again. And again- But she cried out as he snatched her wrists and nearly stumbled as he jerked her, crashing into his lean hard frame.

Narrowed brown eyes fumed up at him and she nearly snarled but hissed and tried to pull away. But Vincent had a tight grip on her arms and it was futile. Her swamp of misery returned and she pouted, nearly hanging limp from his grip. Childish, but she couldn't help it. Tifa twisted and writhed, trying to dislodge those fingers.

"Let go," she whined, jerking her wrists. "…mmmnnnn, let _go_." She wiggled for a bit but was granted no respite from that hard embrace. Finally, fed up with herself, she hung her head and trembled, slumping against him. "Yes, Vincent," she whispered, "I'm done."

**Vincent:**

His grip on her wrists slowly loosened until it was light enough for her to pull away if she still wished, which he didn't doubt she did, but his fingers remained lightly holding her arms. He wanted to be sure, though, that she understood, that she knew he was right and that she wouldn't try to handle this alone.

"I know it was harsh, but I want you to get through this, Tifa. I don't want you ending up like me." His words were softer now as the last vestiges of anger ebbed from him, leaving him feeling only tired and saddened for her.

"There are too many people who love you to let that happen. Too many who depend on you. I can't imagine what that's like... but you know if you need someone that you can depend on, that's why I came here. Why I'm here now." _Though I seem to be doing a lousy job of it,_ his mind added silently.

**Tifa: **

Further whining and sniffling would get her nowhere, apparently. Tifa felt terribly petulant, but nodded appropriately anyway. As the grip loosened, she pulled away and shuffled to the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress, still hunkered over. What did he want her to do? Stand up and shake off this misery like a raincoat? _News for you, Vincent,_ she thought darkly, _life don't work that way. I'm just a human, hell_. She hadn't had the luxury of thirty years to adjust to this pain. It was new and fresh, claws still sunk deep. And she wanted to bear alone. Mulish of her, but just so.

Yet she subliminally knew it was best to let everyone else help, right? That was the _proper_ thing to do. Her teeth ground. Why did she have to always be _proper_ all the damned time? Why couldn't she just do what she pleased? Didn't seem to stop anyone else around. Her eyes remained on the floor as her brain whirled. But what did she _really_ want? What did _she_ want, not what did everyone else want _for_ her. The choices in her life had been based on what she thought everyone else thought was "good for her". Her master had brought her to Midgar because it was "the best for her". Cloud had wanted her to stay home and tend the bar because it was "the best for her". Barret and Cid wanted to send her off here because it was "the best for her". Vincent wanted her to get over Cloud's death because it was "the best for her".

But what did Tifa think was "best for her"? _That_ was the dilemma. Yes, she knew her friends loved her dearly, but Gods above, it was stifling sometimes! Lips still pursed in petulance, Tifa rubbed the nail marks on her arms and glanced up at Vincent through her lashes. She'd wanted _so_ much to hurt him, to shake that unwavering patience, shatter that damnable calm. Shiva. A heavy sigh slumped her shoulders. Resignation slunk through her, as well as shameful memories of a few nights before and the earth-shattering morning before. Tifa chewed her lower lip. Her wrists ached, but not painfully.

Yet she knew a response was needed, so she muttered, "Thanks, Vincent."

**Vincent:**

He knew she didn't mean it, that much was obvious. Lacking the will to argue further, Vincent just nodded mutely and left the room, slamming the door behind him. He put his duffel bag in the small closet in the bathroom and placed the attaché on the bar separating the kitchen from the living room. She wanted space, and he'd give it.

He found his every move to be abrupt and jerking as he fiddled with the lock he'd forced earlier. His lips pursed in a thin line as he retrieved his talons and used them in place of simpler tools, unscrewing the knob and brass plate and tinkering with the locking mechanisms that he found to be distinctly cheap. Anything to distract from the woman in the bedroom, hellbent on her wallowing. He knew she knew he was right, but whether or not she cared would be a different story. _Damn you, Cloud_, his traitorous mind projected, hoping the man could somehow hear his thoughts in the Lifestream. _Even in death, you just keep hurting her. And she keeps letting you do it. _

Once he'd fixed it, Vincent replaced the assembly and - lacking anything else to do - sat on the couch and stared at nothing. He had half a mind to leave, but he abhorred the bright noon sun and the busy lunch hour that was approaching when all the tourists would come in off the beach to eat and shop. So he just sat there, brooding over the situation.

**Tifa: **

_What are you doing, Tifa?_ The voice in her head sounded so familiar it made her jerk.

_Daddy?_ She swiftly looked around, but she was alone in the room.

_Come on, kitten_, it said again, _this isn't like you_.

She sniffled again and the mulish look intensified. But it faded after a moment and she sighed. "I know," she said to the empty room, "I just don't want it to hurt anymore."

_That's life, kitten. Life is full of hurt. And joy, sorrow and love._

"Love?" she echoed bitterly. "Love's what got me here in the first place."

_You did not love Cloud_, her father's voice returned.

She blinked.

_You loved your _idea_ of Cloud. You loved what you wanted him to be._

Fresh tears welled as the voice echoed her own dark fears, what she'd despaired of ever realizing. "But he was my friend," she sniffled.

_Yes, but that alone does not signify _real_ love, Tifa, you know that._

She nodded mutely. "I don't want to be alone anymore," she said desperately.

Silence, then, _You're not alone, Tifa. He's right outside, waiting for you…_

Brown eyes blinked yet again in realization.

Her father's voice grew gentle, soft. _Let go of the dead, kitten, and embrace the living. Trust me._

It faded and Tifa sat there for a minute, stunned. She was motionless enough that she slid off the bed and hit the floor with a thump, legs sprawled like Marlene's. She'd been as bad as Cloud, she realized belatedly. She'd been dragging her own baggage around, blaming it for everything that went wrong in her life. Either that or hiding it down inside, smoothing it over with chores, work and everyone else's needs.

_I'm done_, she thought, shakily getting to her feet. _Let it go_. She couldn't do it right away, she knew, but she knew how to start. Tifa took a deep breath and flew to the door, throwing it open and letting it bounce off the wall. Searching the room, she careened down the hall and spied Vincent sitting forlornly on the couch. _She wasn't alone…_

Running to him, she all but collapsed atop him, throwing strong arms around his neck and clutching hard, eyes closed and nose buried in thick black hair that spilled over his shoulders. _Vincent was here…he was real…yes_. Tifa couldn't help but sniffle. "I'm sorry, Vincent…I didn't mean it…you're right…I'm sorry…" With a soft whimper, she cuddled closer, squirming around in his lap as if she were no bigger than Marlene.

Long fingers dove into thick dark hair as her lips skimmed his cheek. "Forgive…" she breathed against his mouth before burrowing against him again, salty tears decorating her cheeks.

**Vincent:**

He heard the bedroom door open with a slam against the wall, heard her thudding footsteps and tried to fathom what her hurry was. He looked at her in confusion and had been about to ask when she collided with him and he felt the couch tilt backward for a split second before thudding against the floor as it resettled. She was weeping and clinging to him, now willingly curled in his lap. His arms encircled her as he listened to her words and sighed into her hair.

He was about to tell her she didn't have to apologize, but he was silenced by the warmth of her breath and her lips. His eyes were wide for a moment as his mind raced with possibilities for this sudden change, finding none, and then decided he didn't care. He tightened his embrace, the fingers of his right hand buried in the silk of her hair as she burrowed into him, and he silently admonished himself for reveling in her softness and warmth. His eyes closed and he stammered in a whisper, "Y-you're forgiven."

**Tifa: **

_Home_…was right here. The comforting weight of familiarity, of a genuinely caring soul. A burden lifted with his whispered answer and she melted against him, thankful to have his grace. "Good," she breathed against his neck. "'Cause we don't fight, right?"

She shook her head a bit, as much as she was able with it molded against his shoulder and sighed softly. "I was an ass, I know," she confessed. "It just…crashed down on me, all at once. I know you know how that is. I _know_ it's no one's fault…I guess I just needed a good kick in the butt."

She giggled quietly, then said, fingers curling around a long lock of black hair, "It still hurts, y'know. Cloud being gone and all. I'm sad we can never make things right again. But maybe he's happier where he is and deep down, I know he wouldn't want us to grieve forever." She murred again and wiggled a bit. "And Cloud wasn't the only one stupid," she went on. "I was, too. I tried to make him be something he wasn't, just 'cause I _needed_ him to be. I wanted him to be my perfect love, but…he _couldn't._ He tried, I think, but he just couldn't."

She blinked and lifted her head, staring gravely at him. "But you can't _make_ anyone be what you want. You just have to love them for who they are. I think I've always known that, but just didn't realize it until now, Vincent." Against her will and knowledge, the back of her hand brushed his cheek. She gave him a half-smile and leaned her forehead against his, lashes covering deep brown eyes. "Thanks for being here," she whispered. "I don't think I'd have made it without you…"

**Vincent:**

He kept his eyes on her face as their foreheads pressed together, mingling dark chocolate bangs with jet black. "There's no need to thank me. I've already benefited from being here." He had realized, and admitted to himself, what he'd never wanted to say... that he wasn't to blame for everything. He would never be able to go back to what he used to be, and would always feel some guilt, but maybe he could let enough of it go that it wouldn't define everything he did anymore. His eyes closed as the tip of his nose brushed hers and he sighed, content and relieved that the confrontation was over and they were... close again. Though his mind still boggled as to why.

"I'm sorry I was so hard on you. I know you can't get over it all at once. It's just that you..." He trailed off for a minute and opened his eyes, looking at the faint trails left on her face from the tears. "You had me worried." Timidly the thumb of his right hand traced the line of her jaw to her chin, brushing away clinging tears. One corner of his mouth drew up in the faintest sad smile.

**Tifa: **

"Learning all 'round, hm?" she replied with a crooked smile. Her nose wrinkled playfully as his brushed it and she nudged him a bit. "No more being sorry. Ever. It's not allowed." _Gaia_, she could _drown_ in the man. So earnest, so tentative, his touch sent shivers down her spine. Tifa unconsciously leaned into his hand and sighed contentment. "Oh, I can never stay down _too_ long, Vincent," she said with a small grin. "Otherwise the world really will go to hell." But she licked her lips and tightened her hold. "Will you do something for me?"

**Vincent:**

The smile grew a little at her refusal of any more apologies, though there would probably be cause for them at some point. He chuckled softly at her comment, "It probably would," he agreed, then sobered a bit at her question. The returned warmth in her eyes, the small bit of hope and all that he'd come to know as her being herself made it impossible to refuse. He nodded and listened, hand lingering on her chin.

**Tifa: **

Tifa twitched a bit, then straightened her spine and looked him full in the eye. Resting fingertips against his shoulders, she said, surprised at herself for not squeaking like an idiot, "…would…would you…kiss me?"

Immediately after the words left her mouth, Tifa's cheeks blazed with scarlet fire and she ducked her head, mentally slapping herself. But, as in Cloud's instance, she'd never get another chance and by the Planet, that was something _she_ wanted. Greatly.

Flicking her eyes at him through her lashes, she added, "…just once?" Tifa's cheeks flamed hotter. "…if…if you wanted to, that is." Fully mortified _now_, she shut up.

_To be continued..._


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note:** **_Please_** see the notation in the first chapter.

I fear I am going to have to change the rating here shortly. And that is a _good_ thing. …do pardon my devilish smirk, won't you? But seriously, I think this was the most fun chapter to do, for me anyway. I just _love _Tifa's girlishness sometimes.

**Disclaimer: **We, in no way whatsoever, own anything of and pertaining to the _Final Fantasy VII _or _Advent Children_ works; that right belongs to other fortunate souls. We also reap no monetary benefits from this exercise in literary creativity.

_**Chapter Thirteen**_

**Vincent:**

He could practically _feel_ the blood rushing to his pale face as he stared at her, mouth open. He'd thought she had _regretted_ that, not wanted _more_. It took a long moment before he could form any sort of reply, even as he watched her squirm in embarrassment. Kiss her? How and why nipped at his thoughts. He recalled how she had felt last time, how she had tasted and he felt butterflies form in his stomach, fluttering a bit too low for his taste. He inhaled deeply and let it out slowly, clearing some of the shock from his mind.

He thought of the last time he'd kissed anyone before her, and strangely the thought of Lucrecia didn't invoke nearly as much guilt and reluctance as he thought it might, as it had in the past. Valentine knew that it was partially out of the lessening of his guilt moments ago through his own words... but the rest of it was because he _wanted_ to kiss Tifa. Able to feel his own heart pounding against the wall of his chest, he leaned forward; breathing his own question against her lips, "Like... this?"

With that he brushed the soft petals of her lips with his own in a chaste, tender expression, repeating it twice more before exhaling shakily and posing the question once more. "Or like this?" Then his mouth pressed harder into hers, ardently yet still so restrained, lips parted and catching her supple bottom lip between them, the tip of his tongue smoothing over the softness. His right hand now buried in her hair, his left carefully resting on the small of her back as he held the kiss for a moment longer before pulling back with a soft sound denoting his frustrated longing, eyes still shut and cheeks hot.

Those feelings he had thought long dead were awakened again, even more than when she had kissed him nearly a little over a week ago. If he continued, it would only get worse. It still didn't stop him from looking into her eyes, some of those feelings and desires showing clearly in lidded vermilion.

**Tifa: **

_Lovely_, Tifa berated herself, seeing the mirrored flush and totally shocked expression on Vincent's face, _now I've done it_. But she blinked in surprise as he _leaned forward_ and brushed her lips with his, murmuring words she didn't fathom. Caught a bit too off guard to reply, she felt him do it again, then twice, soft touches of mouths that made her lips tingle in pleasant sweetness. A soft high moan left her as he did, his exhaled breath wafting over her lips. She gazed up at him, heard him ask again then whimpered as his mouth yet again met hers, this time with firm intensity, almost making her swoon. A surprised noise of pleasure left her as she instinctively leaned back over his arm, parting her lips and offering her mouth to him.

Capturing the smooth curve of his upper lip between hers, gentle teeth grazed the soft flesh, but Tifa's stomach lurched in a sudden ache at the new sensation of his tongue stroking her mouth. Hands fisted in his shirt as her back arched so slightly. _Oh, Gaia, please_…flitted through her mind and her body readily agreed against her good sense. But Tifa didn't care. She was hurting and wanted to know he was _real_, that he'd never leave her. But he moved away a thousand years too soon and she demurred quietly. Breath slowly began to return to her starved lungs.

Gradually opening her eyes, although only half-way, she gazed up at him and whispered huskily, "…ohhh, like _that_. Please, Vincent," she implored, arms twining around his neck, "like _that_…"

**Vincent:**

Coherent thought fled his mind at her tone, her words and how she simultaneously melted against him and firmly reeled him in. Butterflies turned to hot shivers as he gazed down at her, tightened his own arms around her while desperately trying to remember to be careful of his left hand's talons, and leaned in to kiss her again. Hunger built within him, a very human thing compounded on top of the aching need to simply _not be alone_ as he had for so long.

These would have been enough to briefly shake his resolve, but the woman he held was enough to tear it out from under him, leaving him no safe ground to stand on. She had wanted him with her when no one else had. She had accepted a part of him he still felt so much shame for. She listened, paid attention, cared. And she wanted him to kiss her, she wanted his affection. She made him feel human again, almost... normal, but special just the same.

As she leaned back, he tilted forward to compensate, his lips engaged with hers in a slow, firm and continuing caress, his tongue daring to taste more than just the tender threshold as her mouth opened to him. A deep, rumbling sound of contentment vibrated low in his throat, and as he instinctively tilted her toward the cushion of the couch, a single grain of sense came to him.

Was she only this vulnerable now because of losing Cloud? Wasn't he taking advantage of her? Wasn't he a sort of replacement for something lost? It all bothered him and he cursed the thoughts from the deepest part of him, but he couldn't ignore the fact that she _was_ vulnerable now, and it would be wrong to continue where instincts might lead.

With a soft groan of protest against his own actions, he reluctantly broke the kiss, leaning over her as she now lay against the couch. He couldn't make himself let her go completely, though, not yet. "I'm sor-... We... we should slow down." It sounded better than saying they should stop, and the last thing he wanted was for her to take it as any kind of rejection. That would be squelched with just a look into his half-open eyes, so much plainly written in them.

**Tifa: **

Tifa's noted good sense just packed up and exited the premises but her stomach took up residence somewhere around her throat as Vincent's mouth recaptured hers. A sweet high moan breathed from her as her hands clutched his shoulders, willingly leaning back to rest against the couch. Soft yielding lips moved sensuously against his and she shivered at the gentle hesitant flicks of his tongue, just inside her mouth. Goosebumps skittered over her skin, settling behind closed eyes to splash colored sparks against her lids.

_Never_ had just a kiss affected her like this. Dimly she felt the soft cushions against her back and she wiggled around, shifting her body more firmly atop the couch. One long leg slithered beneath him, wedging her more firmly beneath his body. Her back arched as both Vincent's arms held her close and she sighed into his mouth, lips and teeth gently nibbling the smooth wet softness of his upper lip. She tingled all over and all he'd done was kiss her. _Gaia_, but she wanted _more_.

In her rational brain, the one being outshouted by the more primal part of her mind, she knew this wasn't exactly the right time for this little adventure, but it was spades better than moping around the beach house mourning something she'd never really had in the first place. She and Cloud had been lovers, but there had been little _passion_ between them. More like good friends who just happened to find a sort of comfort in the other's body.

For quite the first time in her life, Tifa felt _wanted_. Vincent had _wanted_ to kiss her, of that she was sure. The look in those scarlet eyes before impossibly black lashes closed over them had been burning with suppressed longing. She'd seen it before in Cloud's eyes when he thought or spoke of Aeris. But in this man, it burned for her and that thought alone was enough to send a heady rush spiraling through her veins. Plus, it was _Vincent_, a man whose passions, Tifa was sure, ran miles deep. That he would kiss her this way thrilled her.

But she felt him tense further and draw away, leaving her demurring in hazy negation. Through the fog in her ears she heard him say something about slowing down and her brows furrowed just a bit before she flushed and laughed nervously. Shiva, the man no doubt thought she was a wanton maniac. But she couldn't help running her hands through those gorgeous black locks before trailing fingertips down both his arms.

"Yeah, you're probably right," she agreed lamely, lowering her eyes a bit. A pout pursed her lips before they smoothed and she endeavored to pull him down with her. "Just…stay here with me, Vincent. Rest with me. Please?"

**Vincent:**

He saw no point in arguing the notion and nodded, sighing heavily as he moved to lay more beside her and less on top, stretching out long legs until his feet dangled off the end of the couch. He glanced down with a frown, but couldn't be bothered with it. His right arm was still behind her head, pillowing it as he lifted his left hand to his right, deftly removing the brass talons and letting them clank on the floor as each fell. His gloved hand then returned to her side as he closed his eyes in contentment, still trying to regain an even breathing pattern.

He felt thoroughly confused, glad, flustered and self-conscious all at the same time, a dizzying combination. Her closeness was soothing, though, as were her fingers in his hair and wherever else they wandered, working their own brand of magic. His face was half buried against the plush, decorative pillow that adorned that end of the couch as he wondered out loud after a moment, mumbling half against the fabric in a soft, entirely curious tone, "Tifa... why did you ask me to do that?"

**Tifa:**

Tifa shifted over a bit to allow him room to lie beside her, her lips curved in delight that he would do so. She nestled closer to his long lean frame as he settled down, contentedly pillowing her head atop his arm. Her toes wiggled as she contemplated the propriety of sliding her knee between his and colored faintly. But teeth worried her lower lip a moment and she thought, _Screw it_, and did just that, gently maneuvering a bare knee between his jeaned shins. Ah, much more comfortable. Propriety was stupid sometimes.

She flicked her eyes and attention back to Vincent's face as she heard his soft question and shrugged a shoulder. "Same reason as the other time, I guess," she answered truthfully. Fingers formerly playing in his thick long hair stilled as did she. "…didn't you want to? I mean, you didn't feel _obligated_ to, did you?" Brown eyes widened a bit at her hesitant question.

**Vincent:**

His legs moved to accommodate her once he realized her intention, though his blush returned in a faint shade at the familiarity her cuddling insinuated. He breathed in her scent as she spoke, his mind idly thumbing through thoughts of how in all the Planet they came to be here, like this. When he'd seen her at Aeris' grave site less than three months ago, he would have never expected that his choice to stay with her and help her out would have led to where they were now, nestled on a couch in Costa del Sol after a notably wonderful kiss. How things had changed in his life, and so much for the better, though inside he was still afraid of change, and that this might not be the best thing for them to be doing.

Still, there was nothing wrong with just lazing on a sofa with her, he told himself. There were far worse - or far better, depending on one's view - things they could have been doing on the sofa... He shook his head a little to her second inquiry, then answered her first, "I wanted to." Then the visible corner of his mouth curved upward a little as he asked, "Was it not obvious?"

**Tifa: **

Tifa's half-smile mirrored his own. "I have a hard time telling with you. You're not the easiest person to read, you know," she replied sagely, fingers resuming their antics in his long hair. "Gaia, I love your hair. It's so smooth and dark; I could play in it forever," she heard herself blurting, then gnawed her lip in exasperation with herself.

_Great,_ she thought, mentally slapping herself, _I sound like some schoolgirl with a crush_. Then her mind slammed to a halt as she realized that was exactly the truth. She had a crush, however haphazard, on Vincent Valentine. _Oh, sweet Planet_, she wailed silently. _How did _this_ happen?_ Evaluating further, she dimly realized it'd been there all the time, back to the AVALANCHE days; she'd just not realized it, being so preoccupied with Cloud. And now that Cloud wasn't in the picture anymore, Tifa thought with a stab of guilt which was quickly smothered, she was out of his jamming field and her brain able to get a bit of fresh air and explore new possibilities.

_Isn't this quick,_ her conscience nagged. _No_, she answered it, _it's been going on for two years, a bit more in depth in the last three months and here we are._ But the silence made her realize the conversation had hiccupped to a stop and she pasted on a crooked smile.

"I don't know why we stopped," she quipped. "We didn't even get started." And could have hit herself. This was _not_ the time for this, her brain screamed. Both of them had had a _very_ trying afternoon and emotions had run higher faster than a chocobo on speed. Gaia, Tifa might have good intentions, but her timing was _lousy_.

**Vincent:**

As she played in his hair and complimented it, his smiled grew a little. He wasn't used to someone fawning over anything like that, not with him. Oh, he'd gotten a little attention in earlier years, but in high school he had been sheltered and too shy to do anything but keep to himself, even branded a bit of a nerd. When he'd joined Shin-Ra and became a Turk, he'd gotten more attention, but was only marginally better at dealing with it. All that added to the ordeal with Lucrecia caused him to retain a little of the shyness that had always been a part of his nature, especially since his "change."

Yet from Tifa, he found the compliment to feel more natural, genuine, and not some bid for his attention. Therefore he was perfectly content to let her play in his hair and say what she would about it, though he liked hers better he was less accustomed to giving such compliments. At her last comment, his blush deepened but he couldn't help grinning a bit. His words came out before he could second guess them, much as hers had, apparently.

"We didn't? What constitutes 'getting started' in your book, then?" _If Cid could see us now_... he briefly thought.

**Tifa: **

…_he'd probably have a heart attack_. But thank Planet the pilot and the rest of their little cadre, children included, were far away by now, leaving only Tifa and Vincent to their mutual time together. For which Tifa was now thankful. Especially in light of his last little query. Why didn't it seem weird Vincent would ask that, she wondered idly and answered before she thought.

"Well," she mused, sucking her lip, "there'd be a lot more kissing. I'm a _huge_ fan of kissing," she giggled. "…then more touching and groaning and moaning…" Bloody sweet _Planet_, where was all this _coming_ from? But, he'd asked and she felt like playing along anyway, especially after the tumultuous events of earlier.

"Oh," she added, wondering again why her face wasn't on fire, "a few clothes would disappear, too. Skin-to-skin, y'know?"

**Vincent:**

Vincent was sure he was red from his chest to the tops of his ears. His eyes glanced downward, encountered her body and every sensual curve it held, then quickly found another place to rest on the coffee table.

"Oh," was all he could say for a moment, his brain trying to recover from thoughts that went along with her definition of "started." According to her, they'd barely dipped their toes into the water. He kept his eyes on the table, studiously noting the grain of the wood as he spoke, trying to keep the shy edge out of his tone, "I see. That's... a good start." _Now why did you stop again?_ a small part of his mind chided.

**Tifa: **

"I think so," she agreed, wiggling around a bit, getting more comfortable. Something was seriously poking her hip. Worming a hand between them, she dug fingers into his pockets and finally wiggled free a set of keys, holding them up triumphantly. "Aha, now I see what was jabbing me," she said, tossing them behind her, they missing the coffee table and plunking to the floor.

With a goofy grin, she smiled up at Vincent and said, "Yeah, I never really had the opportunity to 'make out', as Yuffie dubs it, with anyone, not even Cloud." Her eyes rolled. "We might have been…" her tongue hiccupped over the word, but she said it nonetheless, "…lovers, but it surely wasn't what I expected. Sort of, hurry up, get done and go to sleep 'cause we gotta get up early. Talk about boring. And then it just kinda…stopped," she sighed, migrating her fingers from Vincent's hair to his face, fingertips unhurriedly exploring the fine contours of his aristocratic face.

**Vincent:**

At her questing fingers, he had to restrain himself to pulling back and giving her a wide-eyed stare. 'Twas a bit close to more than keys, but he endured and then watched his keys fly through the air to hit the floor. He listened to her admission and blinked at her. Once, then again. Then he decided that Cloud, Gaia help him, was a complete idiot and utter klutz. Completely.

The entire span from his late teens to his early twenties excluded, Vincent was the type to prefer the kind of lovemaking that required time and patience to be rewarded with something that was more than mere sex. The kind that he'd had only a couple of times, and one of those was with Lucrecia, though notably she'd been the only one on the receiving end. It wasn't as great as he'd thought it was then, now that he pondered it.

His mouth hung open for a moment, all he could say was, "That seems truly wrong, somehow." Well, he'd _thought_ that was all he could say, but more tumbled out. "I don't see the point in having sex like that. It's more than an act... or at least it should be. I would never settle for 'hurry up, get it done and go to sleep' with someone like you." That chest-to-ear blush was coming on again, as he promptly shut his mouth before it stammered anything more.

**Tifa: **

It was Tifa's turn to blink but a slow, sweet, completely _vapid_ smile curved her lips at his unthought admission. Oh, blessed Gaia, why had they not done this months ago? Well, the answer was obvious but Tifa resolutely focused on other things than the past for the moment. She wasn't at all bothered that she and Vincent were prattling on and on about sex and love and 'getting things started'. Why not, they'd discussed everything _else_ under the sun in their nightly conversations.

"Well," she said, that same goofy smile on her lips, "we all know Cloud wasn't the brightest apple under the tree and he had other things on his mind, apparently. It didn't happen all that often enough for me to miss it anyway."

_Finally_, her fingers encountered warm skin as their reward for covertly easing his t-shirt from his jeans and long fingered hands smoothed around his waist, skin-to skin. Closing her eyes in fond bliss of actually _touching_ him, Tifa "mmmm"ed under her breath and leaned her head against his, lips pressed to the corner of his mouth. "I'd never settle for that with you either, Vincent," she breathed against his skin.

**Vincent:**

Tender skin flinched, tightening firm muscles under her touch like a skittish, untamed horse unused to contact. Yet he relaxed soon, as much as he could with her fingers playing on his waist, and took in her words with pleasant acceptance. This time, he didn't blush, though he had to resist the urge to turn his face the tiny degree it would take to kiss her again. "I'm glad we're in agreement, then."

It almost gave him a shiver when his mind delved into thoughts of what it would be like making love to her, given this new knowledge on her preferences. He quickly squelched the thoughts, knowing they were leading to nothing but a cold shower. He knew it was best to change the subject, before her wandering fingers, soft lips and their conversation had them exploring those details. "Do you want to get something to eat in a little while?" He still nuzzled her cheek as he asked, damning himself just a little bit more.

**Tifa: **

"Yes," she whispered drowsily. "We are…" A small yawn escaped and she blinked a bit blurrily before closing eyes once more. Truly, she could use a nap. Now that Vincent was here and she could sleep soundly.

"Mm?" she murred to his question. "Oh, food. Yeah, eventually." Her brow furrowed. "It's still hot out, though. An' I don't wanna move right now. I'm comfy." Her lips pursed on his skin, a soft kiss the result. "Let's sleep, then see, okay?"

**Vincent:**

He chuckled softly, and nodded. She hadn't been the only one lacking sleep, and last night hadn't made up for all the hours lost. A nap wouldn't hurt, especially with her. He knew she needed rest badly, even more than the food. So he pressed another soft kiss to her lips, then tilted his head back with his eyes already closed, so that she could tuck her head under his chin if she wished.

"That's fine," he whispered after his nod, "I'm comfortable, too. Sleep well, Tifa." His mind silently added words he wouldn't allow himself to speak as he pulled part of the crumpled coverlet over her, the rest pinned beneath them.

**Tifa: **

The afternoon passed quietly. The waning sun was blocked by the thick drapes, rendering the cottage dim and cool. Tifa returned from deep sleep slowly, consciousness returning with the presence of _quiet_. She didn't want to open her eyes just yet, but she smiled, trying to remember the last time she'd had a true _nap_, uninterrupted and absent of little people demanding services.

A soft stirring at her temple made her eyes open and it took her a minute to realize where she was. All she could see was dark. But then her vision sharpened and she realized the darkness was hair thick and black as night. _Oh, that's right_. She was in Costa del Sol, tangled with Vincent on the couch. And _tangled_ was the right word. Both her arms were locked around his body, pinned between him and the couch back. One knee rested firmly between his and her other leg was brazenly thrown over his hip, calf resting against the back of his jeaned thigh. His arm was a warm weight against her midriff; her shirt had twisted up over her stomach in her wiggling.

_Blessed Planet_, she thought but an amused grin pasted her lips. His eyes were still closed and his breathing was deep and regular; Tifa didn't want to wake him. So she simply lay in his arms and watched him, warm brown eyes roving over the sculpted planes of his face, marveling yet again at how utterly handsome he actually _was_.

_To be continued..._


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note:** **_Please_** see the notation in the first chapter.

**Disclaimer: **We, in no way whatsoever, own anything of and pertaining to the _Final Fantasy VII _or _Advent Children_ works; that right belongs to other fortunate souls. We also reap no monetary benefits from this exercise in literary creativity.

_**Chapter Fourteen: **_

**Vincent: **

He slept only a few minutes more, until the feeling of being watched finally pulled him from sleep. Red eyes cracked just enough to see shining dark eyes staring back, set in soft, lovely features framed by even darker hair. A smile ghosted his lips as he cleared his throat quietly and blinked sleep away, rubbing his eyes with the knuckles of his right hand. He could hear cicadas beginning their evening song, and guessed they'd slept at least three hours, maybe closer to five. He noted her knee still between his, and her leg over his hip. That, combined with the memory of a few hours ago and the strange whirlwind of words and emotions that had lead them there caused his cheeks to darken, but only a little this time.

He turned his head to yawn, then asked, "Did you sleep well? I'm guessing it's close to dinner by now..." His voice was even lower in tone than normal, and roughened from sleep. He brushed her bangs from her face as she answered, deciding she looked just as beautiful in her disheveled state as she always did.

**Tifa: **

Her natural smile graced her lips. "I did," Tifa answered quietly. "And so did you, apparently," she teased, one finger lightly tapping his nose. She closed her eyes as he brushed her hair then fixed them on him again. In response to his comment, her stomach growled right on cue and she giggled. "I'd say so."

Unwilling to move just yet, she asked softly, "What would you like for dinner? The restaurant just down the beach has _great_ Italian food. Their shrimp is just delicious. Or," she added, "there's a sushi place around the corner. I haven't tried it yet, but it smelled really good, if that's possible. I think they bake it; it's not just raw fish and rice. Anyway," she chirped, gently wiggling away in effort to get up, she deposited a swift kiss to his cheek and rose from the couch, "decide while I change clothes, okay?"

Tifa disappeared into the bedroom to change from her t-shirt and shorts into a light blue sundress, the fabric swirly and light, perfect for evenings on the beach. Adjusting the slender straps over her shoulders, she brushed out her hair and decided to leave it loose for once. She quickly applied a touch of makeup and stepped into her sandals, done with ablutions.

**Vincent: **

While Tifa changed clothes, Vincent sat on the couch, willing himself to stand. He hadn't slept so well in a very, very long time. He supposed most of the reason was the weight lifted from his mind by knowing that Tifa was somewhere on the road to emotional recovery, and the brief bit of passion between them had eased some sort of unseen tension he hadn't realized was there. He still worried about taking things too fast, but at least he'd been firmly reminded that he was indeed still alive, inside and out. Perhaps not as much as some, but enough that he didn't feel like a bitter husk of a person anymore. Whether or not it had passed entirely and forever with his realizations during the debate with Tifa, he couldn't tell. But it felt better now, being free of a lot of that guilt. Not all, for there were things for which he'd be eternally guilty, but enough.

He stood despite the protest in slothful limbs and combed his fingers through his hair to fix some of its messiness, then pulled it back and tied it with a thin black cord from inside his bag. Already dressed somewhat appropriately, he didn't bother to change clothes. Black jeans and a matching button-up over a white T-shirt would do fine, monochromatic as always.

He'd decided on Italian by the time Tifa emerged, though it took him a moment to say it. He realized he'd never seen her in anything like the dress she wore, and the look suited her well. "You... you look nice," he finally stammered. Vincent then cleared his throat again and informed her, "I think I'm in the mood for Italian, unless you would really like to try the sushi place."

**Tifa: **

Always unused to compliments on her looks, Tifa's cheeks flushed and she smiled shyly. "Thanks," she replied quietly, then grinned. "Not so bad yourself, Vincent." Although imagining him with a royal blue or deep scarlet shirt quite crossed her eyes. Those noble colors against that pale ivory skin and midnight colored hair…

Tifa mentally shook herself and wallowed from her fantasizing, coming back to the present. "Italian sounds great." Her nose wrinkled. "I'm not big on sushi, to tell you the truth. I have issues eating seaweed," she said as they left the cottage. The evening breeze was pleasant, exotic and tinged with salt. Tifa strolled amiably beside Vincent, not-quite-by-accident slipping her left hand into his right as they walked along. She hummed under her breath, feeling worlds better than she had earlier in the day.

After arriving at the specified place and being seated at their table, an out of the way nook on the patio, Tifa gazed around and sighed with satisfaction. "Why didn't we come here the first time?" she speculated, taking in the scenery. Her musings were halted by their server, who inquired as to their pleasure. Tifa maneuvered Vincent into ordering for them both, a teasing glint in her eye but she giggled and kept quiet.

However, the complimentary bottle of red House wine was a welcome surprise, the dark red liquid shimmering in the crystal glasses. Although a bit hesitant, even though she ran a bar, she seldom indulged in alcohol, but Tifa felt she was entitled after the events of today, she lifted her glass and took a small sip, rolling it on her tongue. Swallowing, she said, "Mmm, 's good."

**Vincent: **

He took a sip from his own glass, giving a thoughtful pause before agreeing with her, "It is. The flavor is much smoother than a lot of reds I've tasted." Some were way too strong or bitter, others were so bland that all one could taste was the eight to fifteen percent alcohol they contained and what might have well been grape juice from concentrate. This wine balanced sweet with tart, but went down smooth enough that Vincent made a mental note of it for future references.

While they waited for their food and indulged in the fresh-baked bread with herb-infused olive oil, he picked up on her earlier musing. "Maybe we never came here because between a certain ninja girl and two rather gruff, loud men, not to mention a giant moving stuffed animal, it might have ruined the atmosphere. It would have been entertaining, though." He grinned a little at the thought, then sighed softly. It would never happen now, and he briefly regretted that.

Pushing those morbid thoughts away, he concentrated on her, steering the conversation toward business. "The blueprints look rather good, by the way. I'm not sure if it's exactly what you want, since I had to fill in some minor details, but I think it may be close. If anything requires changing, I'm sure it won't be a problem."

The waiter arrived with their appetizers, first serving Tifa her salad then setting before Vincent a small bowl of shrimp bisque. The man inquired if they needed anything further, and upon dismissal was off to greet another table's guests. Vincent continued between bites, "I've also brought bids from contractors as well as photo samples of their previous five job sites, or written references in some cases. It'll be a while before you need to decide on anything, since it'll take a while for the foundation to be laid, but I've got some samples of tile, wood-stains and paint to consider."

He paused in his thought to look thoughtfully at his bowl of bisque, "This is really good."

**Tifa: **

Tifa giggled at the hilarity of their mutual musings. "Yeah, I can't see Cid actually _enduring_ this sort of place. Barret might have suffered it, but Cid…no. And Yuffie would have stolen the silverware from every table or locked the bathroom stalls from the inside out." She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly but glanced up with delight as food arrived.

Returning to business conversation, Tifa nodded. "I trust your judgment, Vincent," she told him after a bite of crisp salad. "We've hammered out so many different details I think you know what I want even more than I do." She twinkled at him. "Chalk it up to your training," she teased fondly.

Clearing her throat, she went on. "I've been speculating, actually. I'm torn between expanding totally and living upstairs, which would be a hassle regardless, or just adding on living quarters next door and utilizing the old place on both floors." She frowned a bit in thought, then shook her head. "No, trooping upstairs with drinks just wouldn't get it. It'd be hell on wheels, more than likely."

Tifa stirred her salad in the bowl. "What I'd really like is to have the second floor _completely_ partisaned off, separate kitchen, laundry room and the like. Especially if we're expanding to restaurant proportions." A slim shoulder shrugged and she smiled. "Well, we can do homework tomorrow, I suppose. Amid lounging on the beach and being generally lazy."

**Vincent: **

He smiled without telling her he'd had the plans drawn for optimal use with everything upstairs for living, just letting her talk it out as she often had to do with ideas, sometimes making up her mind a little easier after hearing how something sounded out loud.

At the mention of the word "beach", Vincent frowned a little in thought. The last time they'd visited with the group, he'd avoided the beach like a plague. It wasn't the matter of sunburn as much as the bit about wearing a bathing suit and putting up with other tourists who obviously had no idea what either decency or good taste was. Not to mention that if his ivory skin wasn't enough to make him stick out like a sore thumb, his left arm was. Lastly came the matter of sunburn, from which he knew he would heal quickly and peel back just as white as he'd ever been.

Perhaps Tifa could lie out on the beach and he could sit under one of those large umbrellas and read a book. In normal clothes. That would be fine, he surmised. Either way, he wouldn't comment on his discomfort with the idea, instead asking, "Have you gone swimming yet? I recall Yuffie getting stung by a jellyfish the last time."

**Tifa: **

Tifa nodded, finishing the last of her salad and chasing it with a healthy swallow of wine. "Mmhm," she affirmed, setting the glass back down. "Yesterday. Got sand _everywhere_," she grimaced good-naturedly. Then she beamed. "But I got you some stuff, though. Sunshades, heavy sun-block and the latest collection of Poe's poetry. With footnotes, even." She grinned. "Yeah, Yuffie was trying to filch the blasted thing and it bit her. I don't blame it. They are _not_ for sale on del Sol's 'black market', good grief."

Her head tilted as a thought occurred to her. "Why don't we go when we get back from dinner? The moon will be out and bright enough to at least see by. And no sun and no obnoxious people, either."

**Vincent: **

Gaia bless the woman, she knew him well enough to know what he would prefer. He smiled at her and finished his bisque, chuckling at her comment on Yuffie. That girl would indeed try to sell anything to anyone, except materia, which was the cause of her greed.

The waiter came shortly and set their main courses before them, then cleared the empty bowls, again making his inquiries of whether they needed anything, then parting with a smile and, "Enjoy your meal." Vincent had ordered Chicken Parmesan over a bed of angel hair pasta in Marsala sauce. He'd requested that sauce because Alfredo was usually a little weak for his taste, and the richer flavor of the Portobello mushrooms was better complimented like this.

He began cutting the chicken into small, even bites, pausing at the suggestion to look at her with a slight blush and a bit of a lost look. He blinked at her invitation and the way out suddenly came to him, "I don't have anything to swim in." Aside from that, he was quite unsure about swimming with her, at night, in a romantic setting when things between them lately had been so... compulsive.

**Tifa: **

Vincent had good taste, Tifa had to give him that. The food smelled heavenly. Swallowing her first blissful bite, she opened her eyes and gave him a look, one eyebrow arched slightly. _Not so fast, Valentine_. "I took care of that, too," she assured him with an airy grin. "So you have no excuse." Ha. "You _are_ getting in the water, Vincent," she informed him a bit imperiously. "If only _once_."

Her tone softened and she gave him a smile. "Then it'll be over and you can lounge the rest of the vacation. I won't ask afterwards so don't fret." She took another bite of chicken. "Stop being such a worrywart. Nothing'll bite you, goodness."

**Vincent: **

His fork stopped just shy of placing a bite of food into his open mouth when she knocked his excuse right out from under him, leaving him with two choices; comply and play along, or be rude and decline, possibly hurting her feelings. _Damn_. He sighed and eyed her, "Just once?" At her nod he reluctantly agreed, thankful at least that it was going to be at night. "Fine. Just once then."

He dearly hoped that whatever she'd picked out for him covered at least a quarter of his frame. If it were one of those small stretchy things... He shoved the thought as far back into his mind as he could stuff it and continued eating, intent on enjoying his meal. If it made her happy - and no one else was around to see - he guessed it couldn't be _too_ bad.

**Tifa:**

Tifa gleamed, having won. "Yes," she reiterated, "just once." From the look on his face, she knew he was _despairing_ about the whole prospect, but by damn, the man needed to learn to live a little! All right, _again_ was more accurate, but…oh, Shiva, screw it.

Content with her victory, Tifa subsided and settled down to enjoy their excellent meal, broken only by small nonsensical snippets of conversation. Gaia, but she felt _worlds_ better than she had the previous day and she subliminally knew why, but would attribute it to having company again. Tifa didn't really like being alone. A ghostly memory of she and Cloud sitting on this same beach and talking well into the night wafted through her mind, but she firmly closed and locked the door against the past and turned her thoughts back to the present.

After dinner, Tifa pulled Vincent along the beach-walk, wanting to get home and change into swim clothes. She'd missed her swim today, having had to deal with emotional drama most of the afternoon. Thankfully _that_ was come and gone. It truly was a lovely night; the moon had risen by now and the balmy early summer heat had subsided, leaving the air pleasant. Tifa pulled off her sandals and walked barefoot in the sand, feeling truly lighthearted.

Back at the house, she disappeared into the bedroom and returned with a shopping bag, which she presented to her roommate with a grin. "Here," she said, plunking it in his lap and returning to change. All the mentioned items were there, as well as a decent pair of black swim trunks. Tifa knew better than to indulge in what he was no doubt fearing.

In the bedroom, she wiggled into her own swimsuit, all one piece and black as well. She would _never_ be able to wear anything else, thanks to the long scar that decorated her torso. She wasn't _quite_ as self-conscious about it, but it wasn't something she wanted to show the world. She could understand Vincent's trepidation on _that_ score. Besides, she wasn't entirely comfortable with flashing her body to every pair of eyes watching and had a bit more taste than to do so. Slinging a towel over her shoulder, she emerged into the living room and plunked down on the couch to wait.

**Vincent: **

Vincent peered into the bag and pulled out the swim trunks, the only thing he would need for a night swim. He exhaled in relief as they were not only decent, but his preferred color. Red wouldn't have been bad either, but black was best, save that he'd look something like a panda in his black hair, stark white skin, and black trunks. He went into the bathroom, changed clothes and took the cord from his hair, letting it fall freely in a sort of controlled chaos.

With a towel slung over his left shoulder, he exited the bathroom to find Tifa already sitting on the couch, looking quite nice in her own swimsuit. He noted that her legs were still well defined, if not as much as they were when she actively fought every day. His eyes wandered but a second more before he stopped himself from taking careful notice of other details and asked, "Are you ready?"

**Tifa: **

With elbows propped on her knees, Tifa looked up as Vincent emerged into the room and gave him a grin. "Yup," she nodded emphatically, gaze roaming over his lean corded frame, noting the scars decorating his skin but refusing to linger overly long. They were simply a part of who he was. She hopped to her feet, retrieved her towel and traipsed outside, not bothering with her sandals. No point, anyway.

The moon hung thick and full over the sand, illuminating everything in a soft silver glow, making shadows on the ground. Tifa inhaled deeply and pulled a still-reluctant Vincent towards the water, dropping her towel well out of wave-range. She giggled and let go as her feet hit the salt water and she nearly toppled over from the pull. But she recovered balance and waded further, splashing water playfully as she went.

All of a sudden, she yelped and disappeared beneath the dark surface. A heartbeat passed before she clawed her way to the top, gasping for breath amid laughing and giggling. Clawing hair from her face, she flashed Vincent a grin and kept going, splashing merrily as she headed out beyond the breakwater. "Come on, Vincent!" she called. "It doesn't count unless you get completely wet, you know!"

**Vincent: **

Following Tifa - or rather, being _dragged_ by her - out the door, across the sandy beach and to the water's edge, Vincent wore a look of plain worry, looking around to make sure the area was indeed deserted. He dropped his towel where she deposited hers and was relieved she let him go when she hit the water. He watched her wade out on purposefully unstable legs that allowed her body to be tugged and tossed by the water, and once again thought of Yuffie's jellyfish experience.

It would be just his fortune that a swarm of them would migrate towards shore from some deep, dark part of the ocean the moment he stepped into the water. The sea was beautiful, but Vincent had had a mild phobia of it as a child. Perhaps it could have been attributed to one-too-many scary books or old movies about sea creatures, or the idea of being helpless if caught in a strong current in such a vast amount of water. Now, he guessed his reluctance was more from not swimming in years and being uncomfortable with so much of his skin bare, even in mere moonlight.

At her laughing invitation, Valentine took one step into the water, frowned at the sand squishing between his toes, and then waded to where she stood, considerably more stable. He made no move to completely submerge just yet, though. "I haven't been swimming since I was a teenager," he admitted as the lapping waves caught the tendrils of his hair and swished them to and fro.

**Tifa: **

Tifa relished the look of complete disgruntlement on Vincent's face and giggled, accidentally snorting water up her nose. Shaking her head, she coughed and spluttered, unable to contain her mirth. She grinned impishly at him as he approached and splashed him after his admission, shrieking and skittering away lest he retaliate.

Glancing over her shoulder, she paused as he only regarded her with a frown, another wave slapping at him playfully, drenching him more. Tifa edged back a bit and, with a grin, splashed both hands towards him, succeeding in getting his head wet. Knowing he wouldn't stand for _that_, she screeched again and dove beneath the water, swimming for all she was worth to avoid any chastisement. Gaia, but it was fun to play.

**Vincent: **

The water hit his face, got in his eyes and he frowned at her, though she was obviously having a fun time of it. The second time she splashed him, however, spurred him to movement, though a second too late. Tifa slipped under the water and Vincent grasped only the incoming wave between his fingers. He sighed and swam half-heartedly in the direction she gone, head still above water. It felt rather awkward after so many years, trying to maintain some form of grace while all but doggy-paddling as waves pushed and pulled him at will.

This was a bad idea. But since Tifa seemed so thoroughly thrilled with it, he supposed it was good that he'd agreed to it. Vincent did mean to get out of the water soon, though... after he'd paid her back for splashing him. He waited until she resurfaced some distance away and swam towards her with a scowl, hair plastered to his face.

"That wasn't very nice, you know." Something brushed his foot and thoughts of evil jellyfish sprang to mind, only to fall away a second later when he identified the slithery, inanimate thing as seaweed drifting with the motion of the water. "I've half a mind to drag you up to the beach and plant you in the sand." He was only half-joking. It _was_ an amusing thought.

**Tifa: **

Tifa surfaced, spied him slogging through the water like a drunken porpoise and sniggered most unbecomingly. "You have to catch me first, slow-poke!" she chortled, darting away easily. She taunted and teased unmercifully, obviously more at home in the water than he. "Goodness, you're really horrible at this, aren't you, Vincent?" she snerked, splashing him again.

While he was recovering, wiping water from his eyes and frowning _ferociously_, Tifa swam around behind him and, with the next cresting wave, whooped in delight and jumped onto his back, arms and legs latching around his body and pulling them both off balance and crashing into the dark water. The current caught and towed them a bit, but Tifa finally finagled out from beneath Vincent's wildly flailing arms and her head popped above water just as Vincent's did, laughing as hard as she could.

Regaining her feet, she grabbed his shoulders and straightened him back up, holding onto him so he wouldn't topple over _again_. Shoving dark hair from both their eyes, she giggled. "Now you're all wet," she said, stating the obvious. "And I gotcha, so you won't fall. I promise not to drop you," she said mischievously, nevermind she'd caused the previous one.

**Vincent: **

_Damn_ all this _water_. She literally swam laps around him as he flailed this way and that trying to catch her, only to catch the water she splashed at him right in the face. He grew more peeved by the moment and found it even more annoying how she laughed at him and informed him of the obvious. "I told you, I'm out of practice."

When she jumped on his back and took him under, he sputtered and gurgled until his head broke the surface again, all but his chin hidden in a wet curtain of black and he spit and coughed the vile-tasting water out with a grimace. He parted his bangs and shoved them back to glower at her, only to have the thick mass fall back into his face.

As she steadied him and made her little promise, he looked down at her and his frown faded some. She was enjoying herself, truly laughing and having fun. That much made him feel confident that his decision to go along with her little whim. His eyes softened and he placed his hands gently on her shoulders. "Thank you, Tifa."

Then, his grip tightened and he shoved her under the water, yanked her back up, shoved her under again and repeated the process a few times more, quickly and not unlike how one might mix a martini. He stopped when he noticed her almost choking and pulled her up, keeping her there, but not _about_ to let go. "You saved me the trouble of catching you." His frown turned into his own version of a smile of satisfaction.

**Tifa: **

Tifa smiled up at him but her eyes widened as his grip firmed and she opened her mouth to yell as he shoved her under, but inhaled a lungful of water instead. Not smart. She spluttered and blustered in mimic of his earlier indignation and her arms flailed as she tried to regain her feet.

_Finally_, he stopped and she coughed and clung to him, one arm flung around his neck, the other hand shoving drenched hair from her face. "Thanks, Vincent," she choked, still wracked with coughs, "just add some salt now, huh?"

**Vincent: **

One corner of his lips turned up in a small smirk. He kept his right arm tightly around her even as she clung to him, lest she get any more bright ideas, and used his left to help balance them against the push of the waves. "I think there's plenty of that in the water." And seaweed, he noticed as he picked a piece out of her hair.

"_Now_ do you still think this was a good idea?" he asked, eying her. He was actually lucky that she'd gotten close enough to catch on her own. With his abysmal swimming skills - which he firmly told himself was only from so many years without practice - he might never have caught her.

**Tifa: **

"_Yes_," she replied stubbornly, shooting him a tiny glare. "And you can't change my mind, so shush." Tifa childishly stuck out her tongue at him, ending with a tiny pout, which faded quickly as she giggled in spite of herself. "You always say you're good at everything you do, Vincent, but I'd call your wallowing anything but graceful," she teased, endeavoring to pull him back into the water to swim. "How can you be good at something if you don't practice? C'mon," she entreated, "swim with me."

**Vincent: **

He frowned as she pulled him toward deeper water again, "I thought you said I only had to get wet..." Then he took offense to her former statement, "And I do not _wallow_, I simply do not look as... graceful as you. It keeps me afloat and that's as well as I need to swim." It didn't stop her, and his protests were once again reduced to frowning.

They went further until the water was up to his mouth and he had to keep his head tilted back to speak and breathe. He sputtered now and then as a wave lapped over his face and he once again began his underwater paddling in order to gain a few inches above the water so that he could show her his displeasure properly.

**Tifa: **

Tifa only grinned wider to his discomfort; let him suffer, she thought wickedly. Was for his own good anyway, she reasoned morally. "For Shiva's sake, Vincent," she finally said, coming to a halt and standing on her feet again, taking pity on the man, "you're trying too hard, dear. Just let the water hold you up, for once. Don't fight it," she said, floating back to him. She gazed at him with a grin. "You'd be amazed at the good things that can happen to you when you don't fight them."

**Vincent: **

Those words made him flush a little, as he was sure they applied to more than just swimming. The frown stayed, but he ceased his struggle and leaned back a bit, as she did. The moment it felt like he was sinking, he jerked forward enough to almost cover his face in water and began his furious paddling to overcompensate. His brow furrowed low at her.

"It's not working," he stated. "You swim your way and I'll swim my way. As I told you, I'm out of practice. It'll come back..." He tried not to feel completely stupid on the last bit. He never recalled being this clumsy, but was never all that good either. It was irritating, especially since she seemed to have no trouble whatsoever.

**Tifa: **

Brown eyes rolled. "Vincent," she said in exasperation, "stop worrying about it so much! Just _relax_, for Gaia's sake!" On impulse, she grabbed him and put his arms around her waist. "Here, you big baby," she told him with a half-grin, "hang on to me and you won't drown." Tifa wound her arms around Vincent's neck and just let go, letting the water support them both as they rose and fell with the waves' motion. "See?" she smirked. "No more Vinny-drowning. Or flailing. Or _wallowing_." One hand smoothed wet hair from his forehead. "Just calm down and relax. I've got you," she said, placing a kiss to his cheek.

**Vincent: **

He felt even more flustered at her treatment, but found himself unable to argue with her arms around him and his around her. "I'm not a child," he complained, but slowly began to relax and found himself being carried by the water, rather than overcome by it. He remained almost frozen for a minute, then began to look around at the slowly rolling swells of water that crested into smaller, pointed peaks as it closed in on the sandy shore.

He let out the breath he'd been holding slowly, was glad he didn't sink when he did, then inhaled again and looked up into the night sky. He still didn't quite trust the water, but at least now he wasn't "wallowing" as she'd put it. He looked at her reluctantly, admiring her face in the moonlight, a look in his eyes implying that he was still unsure. "How did you become so good at this?" he asked.

**Tifa: **

A shoulder shrugged. "Practice," she grinned. "I love the water," she confessed. "All of us kids would swim in Nibel Lake every summer, usually to avoid chore-bearing parents and all. We'd fish, catch tadpoles and polliwogs until we got big enough to swim out in the deep water. It was fun, growing up there." Fingers idly played in the hair plastered to pale shoulders. "And it's like bicycle riding. Once you learn how, you never really forget. See, it's coming back to you, huh?"

**Vincent: **

"A little," he admitted, neglecting to tell her he'd never really been that good to begin with. He was fairly certain she could tell already. He enjoyed hearing about the times she remembered as a child, and tried to picture her running around with a small net, dipping out tadpoles only to have them flop their slippery little bodies right out of her hands. As amusing as it was, that hadn't really been what he'd meant.

He should have clarified, but the real question was known only to him and came into his mind not for the first time, though now he did have more understanding of it. He chuckled with a distant look in his eyes, then focused on her again, "I'm sure those are fond memories. But what I really meant was, how did you become so good at getting me to do things I'm not used to?" He gave her a small smirk with the question, not really expecting - or needing - an answer.

**Tifa: **

Tifa blinked at his question, then flushed, grateful for the darkness that hid it. "Oh," was all she said for a minute, then glanced at him through her lashes. The water still tossed them a bit, but it was soothing, not menacing. "…I don't know, Vincent," she admitted honestly. "Maybe because that's what friends do? And maybe you trust me, as weird as that seems…?"

**Vincent: **

The smallest smile, followed by, "Either way, you're very good at it." The water pushed them toward shore only to pull them back out in a slow ebb and flow, and while they drifted on the surface Vincent likewise allowed his mind to drift on thoughts of the changes between them, and how it may affect them. He didn't dare think too far ahead, for every day brought with it the possibility of change. Yet they could adapt, he hoped, in any scenario.

After a few moments, he inquired quietly, "Well, is my lesson over? Or shall I prune and flail a bit more for you?" There was only the barest hint of amusement in the words as he looked at her, one brow cocked.

**Tifa: **

The question jerked her back from her against-her-will dreamy scrutiny of the moonlight playing over the dark strands of thick black hair and she blinked, trying to clear her vision. "Huh? Oh," she flushed, "I guess so."

With a strange reluctance, Tifa released Vincent and headed for shore, sparing him glances to make sure he didn't sink again. Once her feet touched sand, she scrambled out of the water and shook sand from her towel, drying off a bit. Although it really wasn't helpful in the long run. Oh, well.

She handed Vincent his and they started for the house in companionable silence. Sand coated Tifa's feet and legs by the time they reached the porch and she sighed, brushing at it half-heartedly. "I need a hot shower," she grumped. "And a soft bed where I can sleep for a week."

**Vincent: **

He did marginally better on the way back to shore. He used the towel she handed him to dry some of the wetness from his hair, then lay it over his shoulders as they walked back. The moon illuminated the beach well, and the porch on which they stood for a few minutes to drip-dry and dust the sand from themselves. "I could do for the same," he mused, though he didn't think he _could_ stay in bed that long. Thirty years of being cooped up in a coffin had made him somewhat restless when it came to lazing around for long periods.

The thought flashed through his mind of them sharing a shower, then the bed. That notion was banished quickly to a far corner of his mind, right about where he'd stashed the thoughts of evil jellyfish and other sea creatures and drowning only a few minutes ago. Some other rather interesting ideas were stored there as well, locked up tight to avoid further thoughts on any of them. Oddly enough, a good many of them involved the woman beside him. "Did you enjoy the swim?" He now felt a little guilty for pulling her away from it, but was more relieved to be back on dry land.

**Tifa: **

Tifa nodded emphatically. "I did," she said brightly, kicking more sand from her feet and opening the door. "Thanks for joining me," she said with a grin, indulging herself with another quick peck to his cheek. "I know it was miserable for you." Preceding him inside, she flicked on the lamp and, flitting through the place, deposited their wet towels in the laundry hamper and emerged from the bedroom with dry nightclothes.

"Mind if I get a quick shower?" she asked, clutching the dry clothes to her chest, all too aware of the cool air prickling her skin. Gooseflesh rippled across her arms. "I won't be long," she promised, not waiting for an answer and she disappeared into the bathroom. Closing the door behind her, Tifa deposited her clothes on the counter with a thankful sigh.

_Damn it_, she thought with a frown as she wiggled out of the wet suit, _the man wasn't _supposed_ to look like some mythical _god_ standing there all wet and slippery, with all that pale skin and dark hair and…and…_ Tifa's train of thought wrecked as she bumped her head against the showerhead, grimacing at the sharp pain in her skull. _Serves me right_, she thought ruefully.

For the duration of her ten-minute shower, she firmly rejected _all_ images of Vincent Valentine standing on the beach, dripping wet and, even though he felt miserable, looking completely delectable and devourable. It just wasn't dignified, that's what it was. She knew better than this. But oddly enough, was rapidly losing the ability to care…

**Vincent: **

He opened his mouth to reply, but she had just closed the door to the bathroom. Vincent dropped his towel and stood on it to avoid dripping all over the floor, crossed his arms and waited. Those thoughts he'd so adamantly chased away wiggled back into the forefront of his mind again, and with an annoyed sigh he pushed them back again. And again.

So, the kiss and all that it implied _had_ changed his view of her, or maybe just brought it to light. Whatever the case, he was glad when the door opened and Tifa walked out, dressed for bed and toweling her hair. His clothes were still in the duffel bag, which was already in the bathroom. Without a word he made his way past Tifa and into the bathroom, shutting the door and stripping out of the wet swim-trunks. They hit the tile floor with a wet plop and he stepped into the shower, indulging in the hot water despite the grit of the sand in the bottom of the shower. He washed the smell of saltwater from his hair and grumbled mentally that lavender was little better than plumeria for a man.

The grumbling did little to distract him from thoughts of Tifa, which the shower and the scent seemed to amplify. A few minutes later he stepped out from the shower and toweled his body and hair, then pulled on a pair of loose, navy blue cotton pants. He preferred to sleep without the confines of clothing, but since there was only one bedroom... Then it struck him, and he sighed. The couch would have to be his bed for two weeks. And he was a foot taller than it was long. He adjusted the drawstring waist of the pants and exited the bathroom a moment later, spare linens in his arms from the bathroom closet.

**Tifa: **

Tifa had her hair brushed and coffee made by the time the bathroom door opened again. She'd stocked the small kitchenette with snacks and the like to quell any incipient munchies they might have. Padding to the couch, barefoot and in comfy pajamas, consisting of loose cotton bottoms and a thin pink tank-top, she curled a leg beneath her and sipped at her coffee, laden with sugar and milk, just as she liked.

She blinked uncomprehendingly as Vincent appeared with an armful of sheets, then it dawned on her. _Oh, duh_. She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again and was _about_ to voice her thought, but her teeth closed around the words. _Surely she couldn't…_ Her brow furrowed and she frowned. _Blessed Planet, will you shut up_, she scolded her prudish mind.

It ceased its protestations and she finally untied her tongue long enough to say hesitantly, "…um, you can sleep in the bed, Vincent, if you want to. It's large and big enough for both of us." Color flamed her cheeks but she rushed on. "And I can't imagine the couch being anything near comfortable, as tall as you are." Flustered, she set down her cup before she ended up wearing the contents. "I mean, you know…um, yeah. So."

**Vincent: **

He blinked at her suggestion. Once, then again, and a third time before his mouth opened to stammer, cheeks pink, "Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean... I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable." He added the second half to make it seem as if he wasn't thinking that something might actually happen in the way they'd almost allowed on the couch. Sure, they'd napped there. But the bed seemed so much more... intimate somehow.

Perhaps it was simply his upbringing that told him such. More likely it was the couch and the swim and the shower and all those little thoughts that came along with. Not to mention, Vincent had a way of either kicking the covers completely off or rolling up in them. He guessed he wouldn't make for a good bed-bug to share blankets with. A little part of his mind couldn't help reminding him how stupid his reluctance was.

**Tifa: **

_Why_ did her mouth get her in trouble? Wait, she blinked. Trouble? All she'd done was offer to share the other side of the bed. Gaia, it wasn't like she was _planning_ on…_get a grip, Tifa!_ her brain screamed. _This is stupid,_ she chastised herself. _Grow up, girl._ So she shook her head with a smile. "It's all right, Vincent. I don't mind. Believe me," she chuckled, "king size for Shin-Ra's standards is _huge_. I think our whole group could fit, with room to spare." Her nose wrinkled. "Not that it's an _appealing_ thought, but you get the gist."

She nodded towards the kitchen, picking up her cup. "There's coffee, if you want some. I think I'm going to finish this one and then crawl in bed with my book. Getting a little sleepy."

**Vincent: **

Another look at the couch combined with her assurance convinced him that the bed was preferable. He nodded, "All right. Thank you." He returned the linens to the closet in the bathroom and went to the kitchen to get himself a cup of coffee, then sat on the couch with her in companionable silence. He finished his cup just as she put hers in the sink. He did the same as she walked into the bedroom, and he followed a moment later, having nothing else to do and equally tired. He watched her sit propped against the generous supply of pillows, reading with the aid of the lamplight.

On the opposite side of the bed, Vincent pulled back the covers and slipped beneath them, turning out the lamp on the nightstand next to him. He lay on his back, but sleep would not come so quickly, so he simply watched her from the corner of his eye.

**Tifa: **

After locking down the cottage like a proper chatelaine, Tifa deposited her coffee cup in the sink and padded into the bedroom, turning on the lamp. She fluffed her pillows and sank into bed with a contented sigh, then sat up against them and retrieved her book. She glanced at Vincent as he silently slipped into the other side and resumed the prone position. Tifa read for a few minutes, then the book plopped into her lap as she flopped it. She looked over at her housemate. "Vincent," she inquired quietly, "you're brooding again. What's the matter?"

**Vincent:**

"Nothing," he replied automatically. Obviously that was the wrong answer, because Tifa gave him a scolding look. He sighed and tried the round-a-bout way to a partial truth, drumming fingers on his chest on top of the blanket. His voice was low and thoughtful, as if admitting the core of the problem earnestly, "Well, I just wanted to warn you that I toss and turn a bit in my sleep. So if I wind up rolled up in all the blankets, just pull them back or wake me up and tell me." There, that would satisfy her curiosity and let her get back to that book. Or so he hoped.

**Tifa: **

"Vincent," she said, "there's three feet of room in the middle of the bed. I'm not _that_ worried, dear. If you flop around, it's doubtful I'll know it; when there's nothing to do, I can sleep like a brick." But she couldn't help a grin. "You're a cover hog? That surprises me. I figured you'd be one to sleep only under a sheet and nothing else. You know, all hot and stuff."

As soon as she said it, she could have bitten her tongue. _What is with these double innuendos_, she wondered fervently. "I like to sleep deep under cover too," she hastened on. "So you might have a fight on your hands, Valentine."

**Vincent: **

He was thankful she didn't press on, and did not take too much notice of her wording on how he slept. "Well, if worse comes to worst, we can always drag out the spare blankets. I'd hate to ruin a good friendship over the rights to bed-covers." That hint of a smirk returned before he buried under the blanket to his neck and sighed softly, trying to relax.

No matter what she said, he doubted he could get used to sharing a bed with her that easily, simply for the knowledge that she slept only a couple of feet away, and that their feelings for each other had reached beyond the platonic levels. "Goodnight, Tifa," Vincent said, content to leave it at that as he rolled on his side, facing her with his eyes closed.

**Tifa: **

"Good night, Vincent," Tifa softly echoed, her gaze on him warm as he settled down beneath the covers. Finished reading, as she doubted she could concentrate anyway, she set her book aside and turned off the lamp, following his example and burrowing beneath the covers as cool darkness settled over the bedroom. Despite everything, Tifa drifted off into sleep rather quickly.

About four hours later, however, her eyes popped open and she yawned, desperately thirsty. Crawling from bed grumbling, she went to the kitchen for a glass of water and returned with it after a few large gulps, placing the glass on the bed table. Plopping back down on the mattress, she heard a faint grumble and suddenly remembered she wasn't alone in the huge bed. She looked at the deeply covered lump and had to grin. Just like he'd said, Vincent was buried under several inches of coverlets. Good grief, was he _that_ cold natured?

Idly, she wondered why she wasn't more disturbed to be sharing a bed with Vincent Valentine and discovered it didn't really matter. She'd shared other things with far worse. Her traveling companions weren't exactly the most…_refined_ bunch, she thought with a grin. But she'd chalk up the urge to brush away thick dark hair from his forehead to maternal instinct, although the rules just wouldn't bend _that_ way to her letting fingertips gently drift down his cheek and trace the stern line of his jaw. Bad habits, those.

**Vincent: **

It was almost two hours before Vincent could drift into dreams. It was the idea more than the reality of sharing a bed with her that kept him awake, the idea of the supposed wrongness of it. That and the fact that for a while he watched her sleep. His sleep was filled with dreams of nonsense that had little or nothing to do with anything relatively important as one random thought after another flitted in images and sound through his unconscious mind.

Yet being a light sleeper, the touch on his cheek and along his jaw pulled him from those dreams into wakeful realization that a gentle hand was touching his face. Red eyes opened and fixated on her without alarm, only taking a slow blink to recall where he was and why she was there. He said nothing, but watched her, wondering why she'd woken and what she might be thinking.

**Tifa: **

Tifa withdrew her hand as Vincent stirred beneath it. She felt a stab of guilt for waking him; truly the man needed _some_ decent rest. She offered a half-smile in apology. "Sorry," she muttered sheepishly. "Didn't mean to wake you up. Was thirsty and needed water."

She slid between the sheets again and sighed comfort. "Were you sleeping good?" she asked quietly, settling her head more comfortably on the pillows. "Better than the couch, isn't it?"

**Vincent: **

Vincent blinked some of the sleep from his eyes and nodded to both questions. "I was sleeping well, and it's all right. I think I can go back to sleep without any problems." Though not at the moment, he knew as he watched her. "It is better than the couch," he admitted, voice still rough from sleep. He closed his eyes and mused with a small smile, "Did you know you talk in your sleep?" he asked. He hadn't been able to decipher a lot, but she had been mumbling animatedly before he'd gone to sleep.

**Tifa: **

Unsurprisingly, Tifa flushed. "Yeah," she answered, braiding her fingers together. "Always have. What was I saying?" she asked with morbid fascination. "I used to wake myself up doing it, but could never remember just who or what I was talking to. Or what I was fussing about." She yawned again, then giggled. "Used to annoy the hell out of Yuffie, when we shared a bunk aboard the _Highwind_. She'd throw pillows at me to wake me up."

**Vincent: **

Well, _here_ was quite an opportunity. He could tell her anything. So he said the first thing that came to mind, "You were talking to me I believe, but I'm not sure. Something about a washing machine and its uses besides doing laundry." He couldn't help his tiny smirk as he said the words. It was mean, it was a lie, but he thought she deserved to squirm a little for his amusement, especially since he had looked a complete fool earlier for hers.

**Tifa: **

Tifa opened her mouth to retort, but it froze, her jaw hanging as his words permeated her brain. He didn't…she _didn't_! _Oh, blessed Planet!_ Surely she hadn't…Mortification flooded her face as blood rushed to her cheeks and she felt she might just sink deep into the mattress at the visual reminder. Tifa couldn't even squeak as the delicious horror of that obscenely dirty joke slashed across her vision and she snapped her mouth shut, wishing she could just vanish.

It was about then she noticed the small, nearly imperceptible grin hovering around Vincent's mouth and her eyes involuntarily narrowed. …_he was lying_. He was _teasing_ her! About…_that_! Her teeth ground and she stammered flustered indignance, snatching a pillow and effectively smacking him with it.

"You're _lying_!" she yelled, getting to her knees wielding the pillow like a bat. "I did _not_, you mean old man! Ooh, Vincent, I hate you!" But giggles broke through her tirade and she smacked him again, just for good measure!

**Vincent: **

His laugh was low but still surprised him amidst her flailing at him with the pillow. Her mortification had been a sight to behold, and he regretted that he hadn't been able to completely hide his fib. He let her bop him a few times, took in her words and smirked outright, catching and holding the pillow in one hand.

"Are you sure I'm lying? Maybe I'm just thoroughly amused. You seemed so taken with the whole concept..." He was pushing well past all moral boundaries but did not care, jerking her own pillow away from her and hitting her with it just once, as if to emphasize his words, or maybe the nature behind them.

"You stopped mumbling just before answering an important question, though. Do you prefer the wash cycle, or the spin cycle?" The question almost sounded genuine. Almost. A part of him could hardly believe his own words as he began to color appropriately. The rest of him accepted it as the results of both becoming more relaxed and being around Cid and Barret too much.

**Tifa: **

Tifa didn't give up her fluffy weapon easily, hanging on as he snatched it away and falling backwards as it escaped her fingers. She scrambled back to her knees, about to retrieve another one and raked tousled hair from her eyes as they widened at his words. Her lips formed a perfect "O" of indignation and shock. _Sweet Gaia above, this was intolerable!_ She blinked and yelped as he smacked her with her own damned pillow and ducked any return baps.

She missed the flush on his cheeks in deference to the flaming of her own face and nearly passed out from his latter question. Cycles, good gods, what? Her eyes narrowed and her lips twisted. "You're getting nasty, Vincent," she accused. But then she paused and tilted her head, as if in serious consideration. "Well, I'd have to think the spin cycle would be better." One eyebrow cocked. "Did you have ideas to try it out or what?"

**Vincent: **

It was his turn to open his mouth without having any words to say, though the corners still barely tilted upward. Both brows rose as his mind screeched to a momentary halt, but he quickly reined it in to play the filthy verbal game.

"Perhaps, but I'd rather have one of Cid's shirts handy for that." His color deepened as he dared to take it a step farther. "I had thought about the shower, though." He regretted it the instant it came out, for it was the actual truth. He guessed his tone and this little match might shake her off the trail of _that_ little fact.

**Tifa: **

"It's not big enough," she retorted automatically, recalling the cottage's step-in shower. "Unless…" and shut up as _wicked_ visions of how it _might_ work filled her head. Teeth caught her lower lip as she paused, deep in thought, but came from it quickly and blinked several times to clear the visions. She snorted. "Good grief, Vincent, why not just go for it here and now?"

And could have fallen off the bed in _flaming_ embarrassment. Her mouth opened again, to no doubt utter some _other_ complete fatality, but she managed a, "…I…I'm just going to shut up now…" She sank onto the mattress and hugged her knees, feeling about as stupid as she'd ever felt.

_To be continued…_


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note:** **_Please_** see the notation in the first chapter. **_Mild warning for the following chapter._**

**Disclaimer: **We, in no way whatsoever, own anything of and pertaining to the _Final Fantasy VII _or _Advent Children_ works; that right belongs to other fortunate souls. We also reap no monetary benefits from this exercise in literary creativity.

**_Chapter Fifteen: _**

**Vincent: **

Vincent felt his own cheeks grow warmer, but knew his blush was still less than hers. Weeks ago he'd have died having a conversation like this with her, but no one else was around now, and both of them knew jest from seriousness. Well, he'd _learned_ the difference the hard way. And it was late, and they had an excuse to speak of such nonsensical things, which made it easier to say, "Why? It's not a bad idea. I'd warn you though, I'm probably out of practice."

All said with no expression, and when he thought about it that was probably the least manly thing he could have said. Not that he cared all that much. _It's not as if it would actually happen, anyway_, he firmly reminded himself. Again. That didn't take away from the entertainment of talking about it, primarily because it made Tifa's face all but glow like a red firefly. As an afterthought he bopped her with the pillow again, face still serious save for his eyes, partially hidden by unruly bangs.

**Tifa: **

Tifa peeked at him through her hair, one eye visible to see his slight grin. Honestly, he was getting as nasty as Cid. "Yeah," she snickered, regaining her voice, "thirty years of going without can really make a man rusty, huh?" She closed her eyes and grimaced as he smacked her with the pillow again. Mock-glowering, she grabbed another and smacked him back in retaliation, chortling as some of her embarrassment faded with their ever-increasing familiarity. She laughed outright.

"I bet you don't even remember where everything _goes_ anymore, you old geezer!" Hitting him once more, she flopped back down and grinned. "But I can't say anything. Been a while for me, too," she said with a girlish blush to be actually _talking_ about it.

She sighed and twisted to her back, staring at the ceiling. "I can't have normal men; I have to get the ones with abandonment issues." Out of spite, she snerked and reached over, pinching his leg through the covers. "Nyah," she said, sticking out her tongue playfully. "Don't hit me no more."

**Vincent: **

His brows rose slightly and his eyes narrowed, which on him was a sign of mock-outrage. "I'll have you know I'm positive I could prove you wrong there, Miss Lockheart." Well... mostly positive. Despite all the perks of a Turks' suit, he'd never been with more than a handful of women in his life. Images of that shower came back to mind and this time Vincent lingered a bit before pushing them away. He lay on his side as she flopped onto her back, jumping a little as she pinched him and hitting her again.

"I'll hit you all I like, since you started it," he retorted. Then red eyes narrowed more, "Ones? Are you implying Cloud wasn't the only one with those issues?" He bopped her again for good measure, even though it was obvious to anyone that Vincent Valentine was the king of emotional baggage.

**Tifa: **

Tifa snorted and cut him a bemused glance, clearly not believing it. "Riiiiight," she drawled comically. But a shoulder shrugged as she answered, "Well, all the boys have issues. Cid, Barret, _you_." She grinned snarkily. "_Oh_, you meant _my_ boys, I see." Her lips pursed in thought.

"Well, there _was_ this one guy back in Nibel who was pretty cute," she said, twirling a lock of hair in fond memory. "He was older than me and _so_ awesome. We dated for a while, he was the first one to get to 'second base', as they say. But he had a 'god-complex'. I wonder if he was taking lessons from Sephiroth?" she mused with a covert grin.

"Needless to say, it never worked. And then, yeah, there was Cloud." She sobered a bit at his name. "I miss him, Vincent. Despite his faults and our screwed-up relationship, he _was_ my friend." She paused for a moment, then looked at him and grinned crookedly.

"And now, here _you_ are, tossing all your garbage on top of me!" she squawked as he smacked her with the pillow _again_! Flailing her arms, she attempted to wrest it from him and failed, toppling to her nose as her ankles tangled in the covers. Tifa spluttered and laughed, shoving hair from her eyes and tackled Vincent, rolling them both in the covers strewn across the large mattress.

"Quit bopping me!" she ordered, trying to pin his shoulders to the mattress, sitting atop his stomach and glaring down at him mirthfully. "Ha!" she crowed, triumphant. "I win!"

**Vincent: **

He listened as she recounted her dating life before Cloud, then nodded at her confession of missing the blond. She completely deserved the smack with the pillow for her little comment on his "garbage," but he couldn't help chuckling as she tried to wrestle it from him.

When she tackled him, he simply rolled with her while still keeping one hand firmly gripping the pillow. When she pinned him, he could only smirk up at her... that was until he realized she was straddling his stomach. And that nasty little part of his mind that human nature had been nurturing went in all sorts of directions with _that_. He reeled his imagination back in and replaced the smirk that had slipped from his lips, challenging her.

"Oh? Do you?" With that he rolled her over in a split-second and had her pinned, holding her down with only the hard muscles of his lean stomach against her thighs. He'd let go of the pillow in favor of supporting himself with his hands on each side of her head. Vincent leaned down close to her face, ignoring any dirty thoughts that played tag around his mind as he mocked. "I win."

**Tifa: **

Tifa blinked to find herself suddenly translocated to her back, Vincent looming above, smirking down at her most cheekily. Brown eyes narrowed in indignation, the _nerve_ of the man! She started to wiggle and instantly froze as the movements brought her body into flush contact with his. _Oh…_ Scarlet fired her cheeks and she blushed, but stubbornness and an unwillingness to let him win made her smile winsomely up at him. A long sinuous leg wound around his hip, foot curling around his knee as her hands slithered around his torso, fingers clutching his shoulders.

Then she heaved, flipping him to his back _again_, covers flying with the suddenness of her move. She tried to sit up but the sheet had caught beneath him and trapped them both. Tifa wiggled and squirmed but to no avail. She couldn't help but giggle, though. It was just too ludicrous.

"Nuh-uh," she snerked. "You lose. _I_ win…sort of," she amended, trying to worm her limbs from beneath his prone body.

**Vincent: **

Valentine had thought himself a better man than to be seduced into inaction. Yet when Tifa's leg slid over his hip to hold him firmly against her, all coherent thought began to play hide-and-seek with him. Her hands wound around to hold onto his shoulders, and pressed to her as he was, he was at a loss to find anything to say or do but stare at her, with lips parted and eyes a little wider in shock. The expression only magnified as she flipped him, then softened into a resigned smile accompanied by a sigh. He chuckled quietly as she squirmed and struggled to no avail, trapping herself along with him.

Yet it wasn't a _bad_ position, to say the least. His right hand slid beneath the sheet that held her in place against him, resting on the middle of her back. "Sort of," he conceded. As far as he was concerned the victory for her was not exactly a loss for himself. He didn't even bother trying to lift up so she could free her arms more easily.

"Happy now?" he drawled, crimson eyes amused beneath a tousled curtain of black.

**Tifa: **

Brown eyes scowled down at him for his lack of helpfulness, but Tifa's lips twitched and she shrugged. "Kinda. Although I can't move my arms, thank you very much." Not to mention she was sprawled _most_ undignified across Vincent's chest. A brow lifted.

"Are you comfortable? I certainly _hope_ so, Mr. Stoic." Her nails flexed against his skin, thankfully causing his back to arch just a bit, allowing her to slither her hands from beneath him. She propped elbows on his chest, hands splayed against his collarbone and tilted her head, an arch little smile on her lips.

"Quite happy, Vincent," she caroled. "I won. That always makes me ecstatic." Now that her hands were free, she was able to push the sheet down, allowing her to sit up on his stomach.

"You wanna try again?" she challenged archly, unconsciously rocking from side to side lightly. Tifa tapped nails idly against Vincent's chest, not even noticing the decorative scars that traced his flesh. Her eyes were bright from the play and her mouth pursed as she licked her lips, enjoying their antics.

**Vincent: **

Damn it, but he'd forgotten about the fingernails. As she used them to her advantage to make him arch his body, he sighed and watched as she pushed the sheet down. When she did not get off him, merely _taunted_ him of all things, he cocked one brow at her.

"You mean I get a rematch? Fine." And then, not only did he have her instantly on her back as she'd been moments ago, this time he also had both her knees hooked over his shoulders as he leaned into her with all his weight, his hands pinning her wrists. The tangled sheets only impeded him slightly from gaining the position, and would make it all the more difficult for her to escape a second time.

Vincent stared down at her in near-smug victory, careful to swat aside any thoughts caused by the position. She was in a playful mood, and was enjoying the jesting struggle. For that matter, he enjoyed it as well. He couldn't recall ever doing anything as simple as this since childhood had given way to maturity - at an early age for him.

Though his expression hardly changed from one moment to the next, to her and others who knew him, Vincent was learning to smile freely, to accept positive feelings and not look for underlying meanings in everything. It made looking down at her like this worlds easier, as it made the grin, small as it usually was, "I win. For _sure_ this time."

**Tifa: **

Unable to do anything but giggle, Tifa tried to struggle out of the pretzled position, but lack of breath and lack of caring made her relinquish the battle. "All _right_," she retorted, twisting hands in his grip, "you _win_. Shut up and let go."

Although she'd pounce him completely off the blasted bed when he _did_ let her go, said the mischievous spark in her eye.

**Vincent: **

He raised a brow, justifiably not trusting her. "Why should I? I've been rather good so far at going along with your plans. I even went _swimming_ with you. So I think I may be entitled to gloat over you a bit more," he said matter-of-factly.

His grip on her wrists loosened just a little, and he leaned down to whisper, "Besides, you haven't said _please_." In the whisper was a rumble of quiet amusement.

**Tifa: **

Tifa's eyes narrowed a mere fraction, then she shrugged offhandedly. "I know, and I'm just tickled you did, Vincent," she said reasonably. But her lower lip protruded a bit and she pouted girlishly, tucking her chin and flitting her lashes a bit.

"You're a big meanie, Vincent." But Tifa couldn't keep up that act for very long and she utilized the eased grip on her wrists to lean up and, surprising even _her_, Gaia, flick her tongue against his earlobe in a soft lick, whispering, "_Please?"_

**Vincent: **

He was immune to her pouting and whining, and only smirked as she called him a "meanie." But when Tifa's tongue brushed his earlobe and her breath washed over his neck, he was stunned like a chocobo caught in a transporter's headlights. If his brain had shut down before, right now it just plain got up and _left_. Scarlet eyes grew wide and he froze, unable to move for a moment. But rather than let go, at first his grip tightened. Then slowly, his fingers slipped from her wrists as he stared down at her again. It was all the opportunity she would get, or need.

**Tifa: **

_What in Shiva's name had she just done?_ Vincent wasn't the only one shocked. Tifa blinked but quickly regained a smattering of good sense and dimly realized his grip on her arms was lessening, after having tightened imperceptibly. She expertly twisted her hands free from his grasp and simultaneously unwound her knees from his shoulders, one bare foot planting firmly in his chest and pushing, toppling him over backwards.

Tifa bolted across the mattress and nearly rolled off onto the floor, but managed to skew around before she tumbled. Smirking, completely pleased with herself, she beamed at him, he still looking flummoxed. Tifa quirked a brow. "Come _on_, Vincent, I just licked your ear. Not like I stuck my tongue down your throat, good grief."

_My_, but the jokes were _terrible_ at two in the morning! Tifa's face colored but she continued to smirk. Her head tilted as a warm curl smoldered in her stomach. "…but, hey, if you're willing…"

**Vincent: **

Even as he was overcome so easily by her efforts and rested flat on his back, he could only gape at her. He sat up slowly and narrowed his eyes. That had been a _dirty_ trick. "Oh? Is that all? So _this_ wouldn't shock you?" He quickly grabbed her wrists, pulled her forward and flat against him, both on their knees, and pressed his mouth to her neck. He nuzzled, lips parted but not kissing, until he found her ear beneath the tangled softness of her hair. He went not only so far as to lick it as she had done, but gently bite the lobe as his tongue flicked over it a few times.

His face was matching hers to the shade by the time he pulled back and he forced a small glare at her. "What? All I did was _lick your ear_. And as for the invitation, I think my throat might be quite accepting of your tongue. As I may have hinted earlier."

_Gaia_, why didn't he just pull out a shovel and dig his own grave while he was at it! He was damning himself with every dirty joke at this point, and he was starting to wonder if he should care. There was the impropriety of sleeping in the same bed with her, and now _this_ sort of play. What in the planet had gotten into him? Other than these feelings for her, some freedom from the weight of his past burdens, and a good dash of lust...

**Tifa: **

For all of Tifa's quickness, _damn_ but that man was fast! Tifa dodged two seconds too late, resulting in her arms being snatched _again_ and jerked forward to crash into Vincent's body. She squawked but froze then shivered violently as she felt smooth lips against her skin. Ripples of heat shot through her as his mouth moved, nuzzling the way to her ear and a gasp escaped her lips as teeth and tongue caressed tender flesh, followed by a breathy moan.

Blinking as he lifted his head and glared fractionally down at her, Tifa felt her neck and cheeks flame scarlet once more, a habitual state, it seemed. _Especially_ in light of his words. The skin his lips had touched still tingled. Dark lashes marginally lowered over brown eyes as her gaze fell to his mouth and that warmth in her stomach sparked a bit, igniting embers everywhere their flesh met.

Unconsciously she swayed toward him, face upturned and the husky whisper of his name escaping parted lips. "…Vincent…"

**Vincent: **

Any resolve, any lingering jests, any reasoning left as she leaned into him with a whisper of his name that sounded dangerously close to want, perhaps reaching beyond that into _need_. The lack of light turned his eyes a soft russet that could barely be seen as the lids lowered, as did his face. He pressed a firm, open kiss against her parted lips at the same time his hands released her wrists to slide down her forearms and meet her sides.

With the tip of his tongue licking like a flickering candle against the supple curve of her bottom lip, teasing and slipping _barely_ deeper now and then, he was daring her to make good on her suggestion. Hands - both bare flesh and leather sheathed - fisted in the side of her shirt as he fought to bring himself under control, and only when he had to breathe did he pull back to whisper through a soft groan, "This is why I didn't think we should sleep together..."

His eyes were shut tightly and his face turned from her in his inner struggle. He was _trying_ to be a gentleman. He was _trying_ not to give into temptation. He was **_trying_** not to take advantage of her so soon after Cloud's death. But Cloud be damned... this was _hard_.

**Tifa: **

A pleasured whimper barely escaped Tifa's lips before their mouths met, hungry and yearning. She trembled, melting against him as he released her wrists and her arms instantly wound around his neck, eager fingers blissfully tangling in thick black locks. Tifa's good sense had fled the moment his lips first touched her skin and she dimly realized she was behaving like a hormone starved teenager, but the need to care was dwindling.

She wanted his affection. She wanted his touch. She wanted his kiss. She wanted _him_. Vincent Valentine, not some paltry substitution for Cloud Strife, the man she'd once loved. No, this passion that roiled beneath her skin had but one satiation; all he need do was fulfill it. Vincent had been more of a man for her than Cloud, through little fault of his own, could have ever been. The type of man she'd fondly dreamed of as a young girl. A knight in shining armor. All right, Vincent's armor didn't exactly _shine_, but it did comfort, caress and support, which was a worth far beyond any paltry titles, abilities or skills. And Vincent had walked darker roads than anyone could dream of, but his strength was unswerving and he again demonstrated it as he pulled away, instigating her moue of protest.

Tifa's glazed eyes slowly opened as he voiced his reasoning, making her brow furrow in consternation. If he left her now, she feared she might melt into a puddle of molten mass on the carpet. Her blood tingled in her veins from the hesitance in his kiss, making her yearn for more. And she, without pausing to consider any consequences, indulged that desire.

One hand cupped his cheek and turned his face to hers as her open mouth met his, capturing his lower lip as her tongue slipped deep into his mouth, seeking, finding and slipping wetly along his, a ragged high moan drug from her at the exquisite feel and taste of _Vincent_. Lips caressed his, moving sensuously against similar softness as their tongues dueled, tangling wet heat into a blessed knot. Palms flattened against his shoulder blades as they slipped slowly the length of his spine, ending just at its base as she pressed firmly against him.

**Vincent: **

That was it. His duty as a gentleman was done. If she needed and wanted this as badly as he did, he was in no position to deny her. Her hands left trails of hot tingles as they slid down his bare back, and her invading tongue ripped a groan, nearly a _growl_, from deep in his throat. Consequences be damned, he wanted her. _Needed_ her.

He opened his eyes to stare at her through the kiss. He loved her. There was no way to really deny it anymore. Not to himself. It was so like his feelings for another woman, so long ago, and yet so very, very different. He had given his heart to that woman, and she'd thrown it back at him in pieces. Tifa wasn't like that. She took him in, accepted him. Cared for him. _Wanted_ him there with her. And now that he looked back at it, he saw that his feelings for Lucrecia had been blind. But with Tifa, his eyes were open, and he received as much as he gave and more. And if she insisted, there was no way he could tell her "no."

His hands flattened against her back, the left wandering up to fist in her hair as he leaned into the kiss, arching her back just shy of losing their balance. His tongue pushed into her mouth as hers retreated from its search, then alternated again and again. He paused only to gasp for breath, and returned to the kiss with his teeth gently nipping her lower lip.

His right hand trembled as it wandered beneath the fabric of her shirt, feeling flesh so much softer than the cotton that covered it. Moved by his hand as it trailed up her back, the material lifted enough that their bellies touched, and he pulled from her lips to pant softly in her ear, "_Tifa_," the tone was rough with desire, "I must know what you want."

He whispered against her neck, in her hair, "Either we are the closest of friends, or we are much more." His eyes shut tight as a small amount of fear squeezed his heart with his next words. "This can't be just for tonight. Not for me." It might have been stupid, but Vincent needed to know if she really, truly felt the same. He knew from past experience, since Lucrecia, he never gave in parts or halves. If he would give her his body, his heart came with it. All of it. And he couldn't give it if he didn't get that in return. It would break him, and he _knew_ it.

**Tifa: **

Shivered thrills skittered over Tifa's skin to hear Vincent's primal growl as she kissed him. It stirred something in her stomach, then that something exploded in to a rain of glittering gold as long-fingered hands enveloped her and she leaned back willingly as he returned the torrid gesture. Smooth lips captured the invading tongue and stroked the wet muscle with her own, shivering at the exquisite silken softness. It seemed permission had been granted, all barriers broken as their lips crushed against the others.

But her lungs began to protest and she inhaled a ragged breath as they separated for air and she mewled as Vincent kissed her again, this caress a brushed admission of lips and soft clutches of teeth. Her arms returned to twine around his neck, fingers threading through his long hair as she hitched closer against him, instinctively rubbing the inside of her thigh against his hip. Tifa shivered as she felt questing digits slip beneath the thin material of her top, killing fingers calloused and rough against tender skin. Her head tipped back in acquiescence and her eyes drifted closed again as he breathed ragged words against her ear.

Gradually, their meaning permeated her lust-fogged brain and brown eyes opened, staring at the far wall. "…_can't be for just tonight…_" What? What did that mean…she blinked.

Pulling back far enough to stare into lidded vermillion eyes, the knowledge hit her with the force of a meteor. Vincent was asking for _everything_. If they took this step, their relationship, such as it was, would permanently change. _How_ she didn't know, but it would. He wouldn't have said it otherwise. A worm of doubt crept through her, slowly dampening her body's flaming heat and she slowly sat back, fingers sliding down corded arms until they met his wrists. Wide brown eyes gazed up at him. She didn't know what to say.

Either she said _yes_, which undoubtedly meant they would continue and consummate this _fire_ between them, but at what price? Knowing what she did of him, she guiltily realized Vincent wouldn't be interested in just casual sex between friends. Not that _that_ was what she was offering, but…

On the other hand, if she said _no_, the level of awkward would skyrocket and a barrier of sorts would rise between them again, much as it had before. A crestfallen look marred her features. Tifa honestly didn't know what to do. She'd never thought of the consequences, she realized belatedly.

He was watching her so earnestly it choked any words in her throat. If she accepted…what _would_ happen? She didn't know how to handle any relationship; the only one she'd tried to make work had failed _miserably_. _But Vincent isn't Cloud_, her heart reminded her. Still…

The memories reared their heads and snarled, making her flinch. She lowered her head. "…Vincent…" she said, voice trembling, "…I…I can't." Hastily she looked up at him to forgo any pain she might cause, _Gaia_, she didn't ever want to cause him that, and went on, "…I don't know how. I'm scared." Her fingers curled around his. "Well…terrified, actually."

The words tumbled from her lips, now unimpeded. "I'm so scared of it. I _want_ it, I want it so much, but I'm afraid to have it, 'cause I don't know how it'll be. It was so messed up, with Cloud. I don't think I even know how to _feel_ anymore, only I do and it makes me ache so much inside 'cause…" she trailed off, taking a breath and lowering her eyes, "…'cause I'm so afraid of falling in love with you, but I think I already did."

**Vincent: **

No matter how much he'd told himself to be prepared for it, it didn't stop the sting. He listened to her breath in the moment of silence between his words and hers, heard her breath make the slow transition from impassioned panting to slow, purposefully sobering. When she leaned back, her hands clasping his wrists, the look on her face gave him an answer, and inside a part of himself had already begun laying the foundations for new walls. He hadn't expected her to answer with words of love and forever. He hadn't really expected anything, one way or another.

But a part of him had _hoped_. For something more than this confusion that blurred their reactions to one another. For something more than them simply shielding each other from pain and loneliness. At her admission, he realized that for the time being, perhaps for the foreseeable future, that was not to be. He tried to put the emotionless mask back into place as his breath evened, but knew he was failing. Words tumbled from her lips as her hands held his, and dutifully he listened, unable to help being reminded of another time. She wanted to, but couldn't. Because she didn't know how, but Vincent knew that translated to uncertainty.

It wasn't surprising, given who he was and the life he'd lead, and especially what he was. He was no hero. No Cloud. Her last sentence caused a bittersweet ache in his heart. Did she _love_ him? Did she really, or did she just equate her feelings for him with that deeper emotion? That she said it meant a lot, but in the almost hollow way of "I like you but I don't want to ruin things as they are now." He wouldn't speak his feelings. Vincent knew he didn't need to, for a rare occasion, they were naked in his eyes and on his face. He did love her. He knew that, and he would not try to sway her with words of confession. Whatever she wanted, he would give. Even space. Even if that space was needed forever.

Darkened vermilion eyes slipped downward to gaze at their hands as he said the only thing he could, with gentle acceptance and honesty. "I understand." And with those words, all passion buried or gone, he simply placed a chaste kiss against her forehead, letting go of her hands with a whisper, "Goodnight then, Tifa."

Vincent mechanically straightened his side of the blankets in a few quick motions and was already bedding down again. Tomorrow, he would start sleeping on the couch. Tonight, he just didn't feel like going through the trouble as he lay on his back, eyes closed against the darkness.

**Tifa: **

_No, you really don't, Vincent_. Tifa watched his face gradually return to its former stoic expressionless mask, but she knew him well enough by now to see the forlornness that lingered in those starkly red eyes. They cooled from blazing ruby to dull scarlet at her words, something she knew was inevitable, but crushed her inside nonetheless.

Tifa closed her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat as he kissed her forehead gently and released her to lie back down, now the familiar stranger once again. She mouthed the word "goodnight", but no sound left as she numbly did the same, curling into a ball on her side of the mattress. _Gaia_, she was an idiot. Vincent had offered her everything he had, and she'd just rejected him.

But it wasn't because of _him_, she weakly defended herself. _She_ was the problem. Her feelings for Cloud were still a muddle and they tumbled over and over each other, simply because that's who Cloud had been, a muddle and a jumble. And she was still bound up in his muddle, although the quiet still figure at the back of her mind simply stood, and waited patiently. Tears formed in her eyes but she refused to let them fall, although she couldn't stop a quick sniffle. Oh, it hurt..! She'd been so afraid of it! So scared, so timid, so _helpless_.

Now, the tears did come but she kept silent. Yet she needed comfort and felt like such an evil thing for turning over and curling against Vincent's side, forehead leaning against his arm. Pray Gaia he wouldn't turn her away. For all her maturity, such a child, she. Especially in this.

**Vincent: **

He heard the single sniffle, listened to the change of controlled breath as she fought not to make a sound. But Vincent knew she was crying, and that cut him deeper. He bit the inside of his cheek and kept his eyes closed, restraining any words or actions that might come. Yet he did not refuse her when she curled against him, and even though it almost hurt after their exchange, his arm wrapped around her shoulders and held her against his side. It didn't matter what she had just said. It didn't matter how much it hurt. What mattered was that he be there for her, even through that hurt.

She was in a similar pain, and so soon after the loss of the only man she'd ever held as a lover, not to mention a dear friend. It made Vincent feel dirty, _wrong_ for their actions moments ago. He should never have conceded to sleep here with her. Should not be doing so now. Her body against his side held him there, though, as did her need for comfort. They'd slept much like this not long ago, but that seemed lifetimes away now. He turned his face toward her and sighed a kiss into her hair.

"I'm sorry." For Cloud. For the jesting. For the kiss. For asking too much. For everything. The whisper just seemed to sum it all up, but neither the pain nor guilt went anywhere.

**Tifa: **

"Don't be," she whispered back, inwardly thankful for his continued comfort. "No apologies, remember?" She curled against him, hesitantly placing a hand on his chest.

"It's not you, Vincent," she said quietly, staring at nothing. "It never has been." She chuckled without humor. "If I wasn't so stupid, I would have jumped on you earlier." She sighed as her heart bared the words. "…I've had a crush on your forever," she admitted. "Since before Midgar was destroyed. Girlish and stupid, I know, but I did. I just never thought you'd ever notice me. Being all stuck up Cloud's ass and all," she ruefully snorted. "But you were so…_focused_ on the mission and dealing with your own past, I was afraid to try. All I could do was be your friend, whether you needed me to or not. Like the other guys. It wasn't till you came to help out that I realized it. And I felt guilty, 'cause I was supposed to still be with Cloud, even though he didn't want me to be." Her fingers curled into a ball.

"Now that he's gone…I don't know what to do anymore. I'm so thankful you came to live with us, that I was able to get close to you, 'cause you're probably as close to the proverbial 'man of my dreams' as I'll ever find, but I'm still that stupid little girl, living on pink clouds and white ponies. But I know it doesn't work like that. And that's what scares me, Vincent." She sniffed again. "I'm so bad at _loving_ people, I don't want you to get hurt again. It would just kill me, knowing _I_ did something like that. And you'd disappear and I'd be alone again…"

**Vincent: **

"You're too hard on yourself," he admonished softly, fingertips brushing over her arm in slow, thoughtless circles. He had listened, nonetheless, and understood a little more now. It warmed a small part of the coldness in him that she'd ever admired him in any way before all this, though for the life of him he didn't comprehend why.

"You aren't stupid, Tifa. And I am no one's dream." It was the truth. She was certainly confused, certainly afraid, but never stupid to him. And he was anything but perfect. Vincent sighed and plowed on, "And you were _never_ bad at loving people. If anything, I think sometimes you did it too much. Whatever you feel for me," and it felt rather awkward saying that, "just confuses you. And it's all right. I'd rather know that now and stop before we went too far, than wake in the morning with everything changed for the worse."

A deep breath as he stared at the ceiling, then, "I don't want to be hurt again," he admitted. "I don't want to feel the way I did when Lucrecia-" he stopped short before he could finish, absently clenching his left hand. "I know you'd never do that, not intentionally. Not like that. But we've moved so far, so fast. Too quickly for either of us to catch out breath and really think about it."

Though he knew his feelings now, he knew further thought was never a bad thing. "I know I've said it before, and seem to be doing a poor job of following my own advice, but we should slow down. Or just not do... _that_ anymore. Not until you know for certain what you feel, and how you want to act on it, if at all." That said, he felt a tiny bit of reason creep back into his mind, calming his heart somewhat.

**Tifa: **

"Perfection is relative, Vincent," she answered his thought. "You don't see yourself the way I do." She nestled her head more comfortably on his shoulder. "And yeah, it's more confusing than Cid's drunk ramblings."

She listened to him quietly, daring to put her arm around him at the mention of Lucretia. Yet, Tifa knew he was right. They _had_ gone far in a short time, veritably leaping over the bounds of friendship to hesitant passionate affection, a place that had previously burned them both so terribly.

As he finished, she nodded slightly and replied in a whisper, "All right." Slowly relaxing into sleep, she twined her hand with his, pulling both to rest beneath her chin and soft words left her lips as her eyes closed and the words _Love you_ breathed unheard against his skin as unconsciousness finally claimed her.

_To be continued…_


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note:** **_Please_** see the notation in the first chapter. I finally changed the rating on the story. **Again, mild warning for the following chapter. **

**Disclaimer: **We, in no way whatsoever, own anything of and pertaining to the _Final Fantasy VII _or _Advent Children_ works; that right belongs to other fortunate souls. We also reap no monetary benefits from this exercise in literary creativity.

_**Chapter Sixteen: **_

**Vincent: **

It was well over an hour later by the time Vincent joined her in sleep. Even when he did, it was a restless slumber where he would have tossed and turned were it not for her body pinning his side down. He was in such a light doze that he was conscious of trying not to disturb her all night, and only when morning came did he begin to settle down. Naturally, the sun would have none of that and peered at them from the tiny spaces between the shades, just managing to slash across his eyes in radiant brilliance and wake him.

He found the spot beside him empty, and heard Tifa humming softly in the kitchenette. He smelled coffee, and that was enough to rouse him, bleary eyed and hair a genuine mess. Not bothering to pull on a shirt, Vincent all but dragged himself down the hall and into the dining area to find Tifa making toast to go with the coffee. He plopped into a chair with a yawn of "good morning" followed by the question, "Did you sleep well?"

_I wish I had,_ his mind thought sourly. It hadn't been only the thoughts of whether or not Tifa wanted to be with him as a lover, but the more sleep-depriving fantasies that crept into his head to beat at his soul with reminders of things not done in many, many years. Damn them _both_ for that kiss...

**Tifa: **

Tifa was better at faking sleep than Vincent was. She kept still the night long, only rising when the room grew too bright to pretend sleep anymore. Softly, softly, she slipped from bed and meandered down the hall, firmly pushing her mind far away from the previous night's events and was determined to establish routine once more. Routine was good; it would settle her mind.

So she automatically made breakfast. Coffee, toast and mounds of scrambled eggs. She knew Vincent liked just a shot of salt and pepper in his along with strawberry jam on his toast and black coffee, where she liked plain eggs and buttered toast, along with coffee thick with enough sugar and cream to send a chocobo into hyper convulsions. But the food was almost done by the time she heard Vincent shamble from the bedroom.

Tifa plastered a bright smile to her lips and turned to answer, but the reply died in her throat. Vincent sat at the table, silhouetted in the sneaky morning sun that crept past the eastern window's blinds. The rays teasingly caressed the tousled strands of black that caught golden fire and flowed across pale, pale skin. Vermillion eyes were hooded, drowsy and her mind's eye recalled a rather disturbing, but all too achingly desirable, vision of that noble countenance, high cheekbones flushed and those blood-red eyes gazing up at her from dark lashes as she stared down at him, writhing beneath her.

Her stomach clenched so hard she nearly dropped the coffee cup and had to put it on the counter before she did so. Hurriedly turning, she snatched the toast plate and, summoning all her dignity to the fore, deposited it cheerily on the table, finally getting enough wetness in her throat to answer as she returned with his coffee. "Pretty well, thanks." She considered asking in return, but figured it'd be stupid to do so, therefore she merely gave him another hesitant smile and returned to the kitchen, fetching the eggs.

**Vincent: **

He only blinked at her as she opened her mouth, let it hang there a moment as she stared at him, then turned and picked up the plate of toast. Ah, so she was still thinking of the previous night as well. Or something along those lines. He found that the only times she was this shell-shocked before speaking were when something somewhat sexual was invading her thoughts. The washing machine comments came to mind, as did the time when she'd seen him in the bathroom for the first time, before noticing his scars. He hadn't been able to identify it then, but after last night he was willing to see that she held a certain attraction toward him. Well, nice to know he wasn't the only one.

As she answered and set the plate before him, along with a cup of coffee - ever the proper hostess - he ran both hands through his hair to brush it behind his shoulders so he could eat without it getting in his food. He helped himself when the eggs were set upon the table as well and after mentally grabbing for something to talk about, said, "Would you like to look at the blueprints today? We need to send them off soon."

**Tifa: **

Taking a seat across from him, well, falling into it was closer; Tifa looked up and nodded heartily to his suggestion. "Sure. I'd hoped to." She took a bite of toast and resolutely kept her eyes on her plate to keep from doing something stupid, like getting up and sliding into his lap, especially in light of the previous night's answer.

"Who did you finally settle on for the contract? I must remember to send Rufus a thank-you card or something," she mused. "He's been a huge help, that's for sure." Brown eyes daringly settled on Vincent and she smiled warmly. "As have you, Barret and Cid."

**Vincent: **

Vincent took a sip of his coffee before answering, "Nelson Brothers Construction is taking care of all the building. We'll be handling the sub-contracting for masons, electricians and so forth ourselves, since it'll save a lot of money." He poked at his eggs with his fork, pushing them into a more stab-able pile while taking a bite of his toast. His eyes lifted to meet hers, but as soon as he gazed into that warm brown, flashbacks of those eyes being half-lidded and full of passion flooded into his mind and he lowered his gaze quickly.

It felt so awkward now, Vincent couldn't help being immensely thankful that nothing more had happened, despite his more primal feelings on the matter. If they'd had sex, then decided it was too fast, it was likely he'd have crawled into the bathroom and locked himself in for days, post-coital etiquette be damned.

He ate a bite of eggs before commenting on Rufus, "We certainly wouldn't have been able to do anything so soon if not for him." His eyes focused on her hands, then wandered again to her face, this time managing to hold her gaze, "This will be good for us all, getting the bar upgraded. The group will be able to spend more time together, and we all wanted to see you happy."

Even Yuffie had a part in it, or would, but Vincent was sworn not to tell. Even crossed his heart and hoped to die, just as Marlene and Denzel had often forced him to do.

**Tifa: **

Her cheeks flushed and she set down her fork. "I'm really grateful, honestly. It feels so weird, though," she admitted with a soft chuckle. "But, yes, it will be so good to have enough room for everyone to come and visit. And the business will be good," she added with a firm nod. "Edgetown needs a good hot-spot," she said with a giggle.

"Everything's getting respectable nowadays. Even we are. Barret's Mayor of Corel, Cid's honorary Mayor of Rocketown, Yuffie would be a national hero, if she could stay out of trouble long enough. Nanaki has high status in the Canyon, Reeve was promoted…Cloud finally found peace, which I think is the best of all," she said with a soft sigh.

But her eyes twinkled as she looked back at Vincent. "And you're a hot-shot bartender. Midgar's finest." She took a sip of coffee. "Whoda thunk, hm?"

**Vincent: **

He chuckled at that, picking up his cup again, "Who'd have thought indeed. I have to admit, bartending isn't a job I ever imagined myself doing. I enjoy it though, surprisingly." He then thought of the questionable women who repeatedly flirted with him and a few of his other regulars and added, "Most of the time, anyway."

He finished off his toast and worked on the last bit of eggs as he mused, "You forgot to include yourself in all that, Tifa. You're quite the heroine, too. I believe you've garnered almost as much attention as Cloud did."

He smiled at her briefly, then broke eye contact as he thought that at least some of the attention was for her physical traits as much as her fighting ability. He'd more than once given a firm glare to more than one customer making rather obscene observations about Heaven's hostess, but there was little he could do about all the staring. Hell, right now he was having the most difficult time not staring, himself.

**Tifa: **

Tifa shrugged and lowered her eyes, not used to compliments for herself. "Yeah, well," she said, flushing.

Changing the subject, she inquired, "Can we look at the blueprints? I'd like to see if we need to make any adjustments before shipping them off again." But her conscience kicked her again and she put her gaze on the table, _knowing_ this was gonna be _damned_ awkward.

"Vincent…" she hesitantly began, "…I'm sorry about last night." _Gaia, that sounded_ so _cliché!_ But there was little help for it. "…if I did anything that…offended you in any way. I apologize," she hurriedly finished, twisting hands in her lap.

**Vincent: **

Vincent pushed his empty plate back, about to get up and retrieve the attaché case when her apology made him pause. He sighed and shook his head, jostling layers of thick black hair that was slowly settling into its usual mildly unkempt appearance. He offered the vaguest smile and said, "What's happened to 'no apologies?' You don't have to say anything, Tifa. Things could have been worse." _Or better, but definitely could have been worse_, his mind added.

He stood and cleared their plates from the table, leaving the cups and bringing the coffee pot to the table on his return trip from the sink. He walked into the living room, and a moment later returned with the blueprints, setting them on the table and using coasters to keep them from rolling up. "Have a look," he said as he leaned back in his chair and took a long drink from his coffee. He'd made sure to turn the print her way, and waited silently for her verdict. The less said about the night before, the better. At least until they could speak without fiddling, blushing and stuttering. He didn't quite trust himself not to do at least two of the three just yet.

**Tifa:**

Blinking as he repeated her words back to her, Tifa furrowed her brow then nodded slightly. "All right," she quietly answered, propping her chin on her hands as she waited for Vincent to return with the mentioned prints. She helped situate the stuff on the table and intently peered at the jumble of lines and measurements.

"Um..." she faltered, but then found the log key. "Ah," she said, "that helps." Putting two fingers on the sheet, she carefully traced the outlines, mind's eye going over the finished image. One eye squinted. "It's…sorta hard to see as complete, but I _think_ the basic premise is there. And this is _with_ the next door lot, right?" she asked, then lifted a page and confirmed her own question. "Yes, I see now."

Glancing up at him, she nodded. "From what I can tell, this looks pretty close, Vincent. I'm sure there'll be little things that we can fix ourselves, if we need to. Did they give you a time frame, or do we just live with Cid and Shera indefinitely? I'd like to go back to Midgar in a few weeks and pick out some color schemes and samples and stuff. Is that feasible?"

**Vincent: **

Refilling his cup, Vincent nodded. "They told me that it would take between two and three months, depending on the weather and the availability of certain materials. It may take a little less, in ideal circumstance, or a little more in difficult conditions." He said this while flipping the pages carefully to the last page, where detailed drawings of the projected finished building were placed in a sort of collage. Most of the pictures were of the outside from various angles, with a couple of the inside from an over-head view.

"This should give you a better idea of what it will look like, as planned thus far." The barest of coloring gave the pictures a little more clarity on what was what, and Vincent had to admit it looked rather good. "We can go back and do all that in about a month, maybe half that much over. That's when they'll need the information, anyway. We can really do it anytime you please."

**Tifa: **

"Oh," Tifa said with a blink. She peered intently at the previewed finished project, grinning. "This is gonna be _so_ awesome, Vincent!" she told him, almost child-like in her glee. "I can hardly _wait_!" Rolling the prints back up, she handed them to him and took their now cold coffee cups to the kitchen and automatically rinsed the breakfast dishes, humming to herself.

Later, she cajoled Vincent into accompanying her into town with the promise of "window-shopping only". At his whine about the evil bright sun, she smirked and tossed him a pair of dark sunglasses and refused to hear anything else about it. The "window-shopping only" lasted about fifteen minutes, when Tifa paused before a shop's window and stared into the glass.

With a grin over her shoulder at her companion, she pulled him inside and made a beeline for the display of cute little summer outfits. With the enthusiasm of a five year old in a candy store, she happily pulled clothes from the racks and shelves, the selections draped over both arms. When she couldn't hold any more, she looked up and saw Vincent staring at her, a befuddled expression on his pale face.

"I've never _really_ shopped for myself before," she told him, handing over her purse with a bit of difficulty and beaming up at him. "And this outfit is _so_ cute! I have _got_ to try it on!"

A pleasantly smiling saleslady approached and directed Tifa to a dressing room and she disappeared after directing Vincent to a chair. "Wait for it," she said, sticking her head back out. "Tell me what you think, all right?" Then she closed the door and began the onerous chore of trying on outfit after outfit.

**Vincent: **

Sullen and bored, Vincent literally twiddled his thumbs as he sat in the chair, giving as thoughtful a response to each outfit as he could. When had Tifa become so... girly? Well, he guessed that given the incredible low points in her life as of late, the overly high-spirited mood swing was inevitable now and then. Plus, as she said, she rarely got the opportunity to shop without the children, much less strictly for herself.

He was honest in his opinions, sometimes earning a small whine or harrumph of displeasure at his honesty. Some of the clothes looked all right, some genuinely suited her, but most just didn't look like the Tifa he knew. Some would attract a few too many stares were she to wear them around other males, and those were rejected outright. It was, in his point of view, better to be candid than to simply take the usual nod-and-smile approach. If he let her know what he thought looked good on her, and what he thought looked wrong somehow, it might narrow down the number of outfits she chose to try. Not so, the ex-Turk learned.

Really, he'd have rather been almost anywhere else. Anywhere, that is, but the beach. So it was that Vincent continued to endure sitting in boredom while Tifa tried on more clothes than even a fashion model should wear in a day, thankful at least that she hadn't tried to drag him back to the beach yet.

**Tifa: **

Her pile was growing smaller. The heap of rejected clothing was the largest in the dressing room, she noted with a frown. Really, she hadn't expected Vincent to be so, so…_harsh_ in his judgments. Tifa pouted a bit as she shimmied into the last dress. _This_ one she _really_ liked, and planned to buy no matter _what_ Vincent said.

It was a cocktail dress, made of nothing but slink and straps. Dark bloody red in color, Tifa had immediately fallen in love with the shade because it perfectly matched a certain gunslinger's eyes whenever he chanced to look at her. The realization made a warm tingle begin in her stomach and ripple outward, sending goosebumps down her skin. The formfitting material hugged her, accentuating curves in all the right places and the straps wound from the bodice to tie behind her neck and myriad straps laced across her back and shoulder blades.

She smoothed the skirt over her thighs, smirking at the almost naughty shortness and carefully slipped on the matching shoes that came with the dress. Buckling them on, she stood and stared at herself. And slowly blinked. _Wow_, she thought. One last thing, though…Tifa pulled the ponytail from her hair, letting the dark mass flow to her shoulders. She shook it out and it fell in artful dishevelment, a nuance that made her giggle.

Turning around carefully, as she was unaccustomed to heels, she opened the door and sashayed to stand in front of Vincent, a devilish twinkle in her eye. "Well?" she asked, both hands lifting her hair and turning around to offer him a full view, "what do you think. Like this one?"

**Vincent: **

It was a while before he responded, before he even _blinked_. One brow arched to disappear beneath his bangs as all his twiddling and boredom came screeching to a halt. The first thought was, _that's almost as short as the skirt she used to wear_. The second was, _what the hell does she plan to wear that for? _

The color was almost the same as his cloak, and one that he hadn't expected her to look so _good_ in. The third thought that came was a simple, _Oh..._ He watched her twirl once, carefully, and felt a bit hot under the collar as he noted the dress crept a bit higher somehow, only to resettle where it had begun when she stopped moving. It fit her like a second skin... too _much_ like such.

Unwanted thoughts rushed back and he cleared his throat, which seemed suddenly dry. "It's... nice. But where would you wear it?" He was genuinely curious, and the question served to keep his attention on her face, which he did with the practiced, even expression everyone knew him for.

**Tifa: **

Tifa managed to turn back around without falling and lowered her hands again. She had to admit wicked delight at the look that bludgeoned Vincent's face. "Well," she shrugged offhandedly, "I thought I might wear it opening night of the new place, or whenever I need something a bit _formal_."

Looking down herself, she ran palms over her stomach. "I really like it," she reiterated with a grin. Then her gaze flicked back to him. "Or I'd wear it for you, since this is just your color."

**Vincent: **

Vincent's face colored appropriately at the last comment and he cleared his throat. "Yours too, from the looks of it." He took one more long look at her from head to toe, then looked away to the store's large designer wall-clock as if bored. In reality, he was just trying to keep from staring over-long. A dress like that begged thoughts of spending an evening with her the likes of which he was fairly certain she'd never had before, or at least he almost hoped she'd never had. Promptly the thought was slashed to itty-bitty pieces with the firm reminder that - until she was sure of what she wanted - they were friends and nothing more. Well... almost nothing more.

"So," he said casually, "Are you finished here?" He wondered what might be next on her list, but anything was fine as long as she changed back into her normal clothes. Or a clown suit. Or _anything_ that didn't hug her _every_ sensuous curve _quite_ so tightly.

**Tifa: **

Satisfied with herself, Tifa smirked slightly and returned to the dressing room to change. Oh yes, she was _so_ getting this dress! After donning her t-shirt, shorts and flip-flops again, Tifa looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. How could a mere change of clothes make her feel so…_juvenile_? Oh well, no hope for it at the moment.

She picked up the clothes she'd decided to purchase and took them to the counter and shelled out precious gil for her choices. Bags on her arm, she recollected her roommate and insisted they pick up lunch while they were out.

"Cooking'll heat up the place," she whined, piling deli boxes in Vincent's arms. "And it's too hot to cook anyway. Come on," she said, "we'll go have lunch then you can slither back to your incessant brooding and moping and get lost in your book for the rest of the day while I go swimming. I won't even ask, so don't worry."

**Vincent: **

Vincent let himself be dragged and used as a sort of buggy to carry all their food-stuffs, but did offer mild protest in the form of, "I have not been brooding or moping." Not entirely true, but she made it sound as if he were some sort of psych-patient. He was more than glad, however, that she was not planning to include him in her swim. They finished picking out what they would eat for lunch, which Vincent volunteered to pay for, and walked back to the cottage. They ate in companionable silence for the most part, and what conversation took place revolved mostly around the plans for _Seventh Heaven's_ remodeling.

Tifa then went to the beach as she'd planned, and Vincent did indeed pick up the book of poetry she'd bought him. He read for a while, but was interrupted by his cell phone's ring-tone. He checked the ID, then answered. "Hello Cid."

"Sunshine! How's it goin'? Tifa doin' okay?"

"She's doing all right. Better than before, slowly but surely. She's at the beach right now."

A relieved sigh, then, "That's good to know, Vince. Anyway, we's just checking up on y'all. I'll let ya go now so you can get back to brooding or whatever. Bye!"

The phone clicked over to the dial tone and Vincent frowned. He was _not_ brooding...

A few days passed much the same, with Tifa spending a good deal of time at the beach and Vincent spending most of that time either indoors or taking care of business matters by mail or phone. Evenings were passed in quiet conversation, with Vincent spending the nights on the couch. He could tell Tifa didn't like it, but offered no more suggestions that they share the bed. There were brief moments of closeness between them, but never more than a meaningful look or brush of their hands, sometimes a kiss on his cheek as she'd come to do out of habit.

One night, at the beginning of their second week of vacation, Vincent looked up from his book to ask thoughtfully, "Tifa, what do you think your goals will be, once you have _Heaven_ the way you want it?"

**Tifa: **

Pulled from her magazine by the quiet question, Tifa blinked and her brow furrowed as she considered. "Wellllll," she said thoughtfully, dragging out the word, "I suppose to make enough to pay off the bank loan," she answered with a grin. But she thought a bit more, kicking one foot in the air as she lay propped on her hands, tummy-down on the floor.

"Hm…" She crawled from her current spot to sit on the other end of the couch, stretching out her legs and propping bare feet on Vincent's knee. Lifting a hand to prop her head, she replied, "I'd say making sure the kids are taken care of, first and foremost, and then…I dunno," she shrugged. "Just try to make a living, I suppose. I haven't really thought about it, honestly." Her head tilted curiously.

"Why do you ask?" A sudden icy hand gripped her stomach. _Was he planning to disappear after the bar was finished?_

**Vincent: **

Vincent turned his attention back to his book as he answered, "Just curious." He wondered if and when the remaining members of AVALANCHE might be called upon again for whatever heroic reason, and found himself half hoping it would never happen, and half hoping it would, if on a smaller and less life threatening scale than before. Normality just seemed so strange, when applied to people like Barret, Cid and Tifa. Yuffie, being the heir to her country, would be busy enough. Red XIII was, as far as he knew, the last of his species, but would eventually lead a life much, much longer than anyone but perhaps Vincent himself.

Not for the first time, Valentine wondered how he would cope with such a long, ageless lifespan. Would he ever die from old age? No, not likely. Oh, he knew he would one day die, but mostly likely it would be at the hands of an enemy at some unknown point in the future. He kept his eyes on his book instead of glancing at Tifa as he wondered if he would outlive her. He found himself hoping that, somehow, the opposite scenario would play out. When everything he knew was gone, Vincent hadn't the faintest idea what drive he might have to keep living. Silently, he berated himself for thinking too far ahead.

Maybe he _was_ too broody lately, though he wasn't as bad about it as he had been for over thirty years. For now, and for the foreseeable future as things currently stood, he was content to help Tifa run _Heaven_ and raise Denzel and Marlene. One brow quirked; _him_, helping to raise _children_. He snorted softly under his breath. That had to be something nobody ever expected of him. Vincent concentrated on reading again, completely unaware of Tifa's thoughts.

**Tifa: **

Brown eyes watched in growing unease as Vincent went back to his book. A long minute passed, then Tifa asked hesitantly, "…Vincent? You're not…not gonna _leave_, are you?" Gaia, she just might not make it if he did. In a very real sense, he was all she had left.

The last bastion of strength she could draw upon when the world became too harsh to stand and take. Her breath quickened at the prospect. The future still scared her; she wasn't sure just _what_ waited around the next corner anymore. Time was when she knew what she wanted, but gone were those days. So much change in such a small time…frightening.

**Vincent: **

His brow furrowed as he looked up. Leave? Had he somehow given that impression? At the worry on her face, he knew he had. "Leave?" he echoed aloud. "No, I hadn't planned to. I've already told you, I won't until you want me to." _Unless some dire need arises_, his mind added, but he omitted it from her.

He sighed softly and reached over to take her hand, though he had to lean a bit to do it. "Tifa, I know you need me there for a while. I'll be with you as long as you need me, like I promised you and Denzel."

**Tifa: **

Willing fingers curled with his. Tifa nodded and answered, "All right." _I need you forever, Vincent_, she kept behind her teeth, truly afraid of being without him. _Gaia_, how pathetic she'd gotten. But she gave him a tentative half-smile, thupping her magazine against her knee rhythmically. And Vincent _kept_ his promises. That thought made the other side of her mouth turn up, her full smile emerging.

"All right," she said again, this time with a bit more conviction in her tone, a bit more surety. "Can't have you disappointing the kiddies, now can we?" Her eyes widened a bit as a recollection came to her. "Oh, that reminds me," she said, wiggling around to sit beside him. "How you want to decorate your room? When we get home, I mean."

**Vincent: **

He was relieved to see her smile return, but her question caught him off-guard. He hadn't even _thought_ about his room... at all. As long as it wasn't bright or pastel, almost anything was fine to him. He gave it thoughtful pause, then answered, "Whatever you feel like doing is fine. I was content with the room I stayed in before." He had given more thought to the decor of the bar itself than to any of the living quarters, though she had a point in that it had to be planned at some point. He trusted her to take care of it.

**Tifa: **

"Oh, come _on_," Tifa said, poking his arm. "You have to have _some_ idea." Her eyes twinkled. "Or I'll do it in pink and purple like Marlene's room," she threatened with a giggle. But she regained a bit of seriousness and went on. "I want to look at some stuff before anything's set in stone. The old place was fine, if a trifle shabby. Besides, we didn't build it, just bought it," she said with a chuckle.

"I'd like cream carpet in the living room, but not with two kids. Maybe something a bit darker, with rosewood or mahogany furniture…hn, this is going to take some thought." She idly chewed on a lock of hair. "Well, we've got lots of time. Enjoying your book?"

**Vincent: **

He winced at the "pink and purple" threat then chuckled softly. "Anything plain and in dark colors is fine, but if you insist, I'll pick something when the time comes." He looked back at his book as she continued talking, then closed it in resignation that he wasn't going to get any farther anytime soon. Not that he minded. "The book is good, darker themes, naturally... but I like it." It almost made him feel like his life was entirely screwed up. But then, the author in question was known for extraordinarily depressing material.

"I'm almost done with it, actually." He'd have to find something else to pass the time soon. He set the book on the coffee table and turned to her, "Are you enjoying yourself here? You seem to be getting a healthy tan..." _And thankfully without insisting I do the same_, he thought.

**Tifa: **

"You should try some of these fashion magazines, Vincent," Tifa teased, waving hers under his nose playfully. "They'd be _just_ your style." Truthfully, Tifa preferred the martial artist periodicals to the other, but the nuance was still humorous.

"I'm sure Cid has an expansive library. Or," she paused in amendment, "Shera does." She nodded to his latter question. "I _do_ like it here, but I don't think I'd want to _live_ here. I'd get far too lazy and fat," she laughed.

Tifa extended one leg and wiggled her toes, peering speculatively at the limb. "Yeah, been a few years since I _had_ a good tan." Her lips pouted a bit. "Although the strap lines are _terrible_. Well," she admitted, "the waist ones are, anyway. I have issues about being _totally_ naked on the beach." Her cheeks flushed. "But I don't have the right skin tone to be all pale and ghosty." She glanced at him and grinned. "That'd be you, old man."

**Vincent: **

Vincent did rather well at ignoring the mental images that came with talk of tan-lines and her sunbathing nude, and inwardly applauded himself for it. At the comment about his pale skin, he frowned, "I simply do not tan well. And at least I don't look my age, thank you." Though he knew one might accuse him of acting like an old man at times, and he was really less wise than he should have been, or so he felt.

"And I happen to think you look fine either way, tanned or otherwise. But most would probably prefer you look as little like me as possible. Don't want anyone calling _you_ a vampire." _A succubus might be more like it_, his mind added before he could stop it, and he quickly turned his eyes to the silly magazine she held.

Hmm, "One hundred and one sex secrets to drive your man wild!" was one of many lines on the cover. Oddly enough, almost every fashion or trendy magazine in the house claimed to have the exact same secrets. All of them were probably worthless, but he did ponder whether or not Tifa had ever read that little section. He took the book, smirked a little at her and read the line aloud, followed by, "So... this is an interesting read, I take it?"

**Tifa: **

"Hey!" she protested. "Are you calling me wrinkled!" But she giggled then blushed at his further remarks. To his "vampire" comment, however, she snorted and swatted his shoulder. "Oh, enough of that. Just because you snoozed in a _coffin_ doesn't make you a blood-sucker, Vincent, sheesh. Cid was stupid for ever coming up with that. You shoulda smacked him."

It surprised her when he pilfered her magazine, but she blinked to his snerked glance. She frowned as he mouthed the article's title and glowered at his question. "I wouldn't _know_," she retorted huffily. "I hadn't gotten that far yet."

**Vincent: **

"Did you plan to?" he questioned automatically, flipping through the magazine. Few were the times he could poke a little fun at _anyone_, and he was only somewhat comfortable doing it around her. "Let's see... There's a survey on how hot you are. Have you done that yet? Oh, this is more interesting. 'What's your sex-skill rating?' I must say, if it's not talking about what's supposed to be in or out this year in clothes, it seems to be talking about what to do once you're out of those clothes."

He shot her a feigned look of disapproval, "Tifa, why in the world would you be interested in all this trash?" He knew he was sounding quite like the old man she accused him of being moments ago, but could not care at the time.

**Tifa: **

Exasperated brown eyes rolled. "Maybe, I don't know. Geez, Vincent," she muttered. An evil thought slithered in one ear and out the other and she grinned. "Why don't _we_ do the first one? I can always use some good ideas. Besides," she stated, "you asked _me_ about what _I_ liked. So it's only fair."

She snatched the magazine away and flipped to the appropriate page. "Lessee," she mused, skimming the pointers list. "A-ha. Here we go. This says, 'Sometimes chanting your lover's name during sex is highly stimulating and can result in mind-blowing pleasure yadda yadda yadda'. This next one says, 'Also, provocative ear or throat nibbling can induce the same response'." She lowered the magazine and looked at Vincent. "Well? Thoughts? Comments?"

**Vincent: **

He felt heat rush to his face as his mouth opened, and for a time stayed that way. He recovered after a moment, unable to help the color of his face but forcing the tiniest smirk, though he couldn't quite meet her eyes. "I think we both know the second one is true. The first one? Well, I don't know. Yet."

He then reached over and snatched the magazine from her and read aloud, determined not to chicken out on her little game. "'If you are on top of your lover, lean back so that he can see your whole body as you make love.' Okay..." He blushed a little deeper as he admitted, "I think that one's not too bad. But do you like being on top that much?" He handed the mag back and managed to look at her with an _almost_ straight face. Gaia, he hoped it wouldn't get any more embarrassing than this.

**Tifa: **

They were both going to roast in Hell. Soon. Tifa resolutely pushed her mind away from any thoughts of hellfire and brimstone and pondered over it. "Well…" she said slowly, "it's not like I have a lot of _experience_ in it, Vincent, really. But…" her brow furrowed and cheeks flushed, "…I can see how it'd be interesting, if nothing else. I can say that I've never _done_ that before."

Before she rattled off anything _else_, she looked back down at the article and found herself prattling, "Number seventeen: 'Make love in front of a mirror so you can see every erotic angle of each other's bodies'." Her brain hiccupped to a stop and Tifa finally had to clear her throat. "Number fifty-one: 'Grab his butt hard when he's thrusting, like you don't ever want him to stop'," and shut up, mortified.

**Vincent: **

He stared resolutely at the carpet, flushed red, and reached over without looking to pluck the magazine from her hands. "Ahem. Yes, well... most of these shouldn't _actually_ be secrets." He scanned the page, determined not to let awkward silence continue, "So, why don't you do the 'sex-skills' one? Unless there are more of these you want feedback on. I think you've already done a few of them... such as number forty-four."

He was doomed to become just as bad as Cid. He was certain he was headed down that road, and Tifa was happily pushing him along while wearing an angel's halo.

**Tifa: **

Tifa let the magazine go and pouted a bit, but gave him a sarcastic glower and rolled her eyes. "I don't _have_ any sex skills, you dork." Her eyebrows lifted. "What's forty-four?" she inquired, leaning over to read beside him. "Oh," was all she said after finding the specified "secret". "'Admire him blatantly when he gets out of his A.M. shower: Whistle when he walks by you,'" she read.

She blinked at the memory. Right. Just before she'd seen the scars that decorated his torso. She'd been staring, she remembered in embarrassment. "Well," she said in defense, "you _are_ good-looking, Vincent. I mean, any _sane_ female would have to be struck blind or just plain stupid not to think so, you know. So…_there_. I'm not as bad as you think I am, so nyah." She giggled as she read more. "Although I think twelve would just be funny. In the kitchen, good grief. What, braced against the counter?" She laughed and poked his arm.

"Ooh! Sixteen!" she crowed. _Tell him you need the car keys, then dip your hand in his front pocket and fish around for them._ "Although I wasn't _looking_ for anything," she said impishly, "but they _were_ poking at me." Tifa propped her chin on his upper arm. "Twenty six and twenty seven would be fun, _I_ think. Don't you?"

**Vincent: **

"If you insist," he mused doubtfully. He looked at the list again, still blushing. _Worship his entire body by going on a detailed tour with your lips, and Give him directions in bed. Don't be bossy, just whisper exactly what you'd like him to do to you_, were the passages she referred to. My, the thoughts that assailed him now. Cloud must surely be flipping angry cartwheels in the Lifestream, he thought with a touch of guilt. It didn't last long.

"I like twenty-six, but I think I like thirty five, forty two and forty five better." He dared to go as far as giving her a pointedly lewd glance as he added, "Especially forty five." Yes, flipping angry cartwheels, indeed. At least Aeris would be there to cheer him up, his sardonic sense of humor intoned.

**Tifa: **

Tifa gulped after reading the specified hints. _Grab his hand, lure him outside and slow-dance in the moonlight_ wasn't _all_ that bad, but _Surprise him with a striptease: When he's relaxing on the couch, throw on some sultry tunes and oh-so-slowly start to unbutton your blouse and sway your hips_ and _Before getting into bed, strip down to just a pair of heels and a pearl necklace. Find out what interesting ways you two can incorporate them into sex_ went a little far, at least for her, it did.

Although she could imagine those would appeal to Vincent. Desperately wanting to put some sort of levity back into the conversation, she cleared her throat _again_ and brightly inquired, "Well, wanna go dance?"

**Vincent: **

He blinked, doing a double-take glance between her and the magazine. "What?" he asked, feeling every bit stupid for being more comfortable with throwing dirty suggestions at each other rather than follow her suggestion of something much more innocent. Or at least, something that was supposed to be innocent. Given their track record with things of that nature, and then this conversation, he wasn't so sure. "Now? Where?" _Ever the charmer, Valentine,_ that same little voice chimed.

**Tifa: **

"Dancing," she answered. "Yes, now. And outside." Brown eyes rolled. "Good grief, Vincent, I'd swear you need a hearing aid. Standard for old men like you," she smirked. "It's dark outside and the moon's out. Although I'm not quite dressed for it," she mused, looking down at her pajamas, "but who cares? Come on," she said, impulsively grabbing his right hand, then snatched the magazine and tossed it to the floor and took his left, careful of the sharp talons. "We've been cooped up in here all day, anyway."

A thought crossed her brain and she let him go for a minute, disappearing into the bedroom and returning with her small portable radio and snatched him again, all but hauling him outside. The air outdoors was cool, testament to the brewing storm roiling in from the ocean. The breeze blew, but not uncomfortably. Tifa plunked the radio on the porch railing and flicked on the CD player.

One of her favorite albums, sweetly haunting pipes music, began to play and she grinned at Vincent and struck an overzealous pose. "Gonna dance with me, Mr. Valentine?" she asked archly.

**Vincent: **

He had been just about to say they had no music when she went and grabbed the CD player. Now, Vincent was no stranger to dancing. Lessons had been forced upon him during his early teenage years, much to his mortification at the time. However, dancing with Tifa was not a thing ideally planned as this. He allowed her to tug him outside, she in her pajamas and he in loose black cotton pants and a t-shirt, and sighed as she presented her pose.

"I suppose I shall," he conceded, mocking her posture with a bow while offering his right hand. When she accepted, he pulled her gently into stance, waited a moment to catch the soft rhythm of the music, and began lazy, drifting circles with her. Lazy, but neat and perfect. His parent's insistence had paid off, after all. The former Turk found himself smiling subtly after a moment as the intermittent moonlight played over Tifa's hair and face, her lashes casting shadows on her cheeks.

Now and then a cloud from the coming storm blocked the moon, and they had only the dim glow of the house lights to see each other by. Though not exactly how he would have planned it... the atmosphere was complimentary to the pair.

**Tifa: **

"Well, you don't _have_ to," she began, but paused as he offered a hand. Tifa took it without thinking and three heartbeats later, she found herself drifting about the porch, contentedly ensconced in Vincent's arms. And she might have known he was an excellent dancer. Vincent did everything well. _Except swim_, she recalled with a giggle.

She hummed along with the music, for there were no words, and put both arms around his waist, tucking her head beneath his chin. Tifa sighed complete contentment as they drifted along. Her eyes closed and the words she'd whispered before tickled the back of her tongue, unbidden, unsaid. Idle fingers played in the material of his shirt as they moved and every so often, a playful wind would toss a lock of long black hair against her cheek, making her smile and nestle closer against her partner.

**Vincent: **

His chin came to rest against the softness of her hair as wine-red eyes drifted closed. They danced in perfect rhythm, the movements coming naturally. The music she'd picked suited perfectly both the pair dancing and the serene environment, with a touch of bitter-sweetness so befitting them. Vincent sighed softly into chocolate tresses. Had she decided yet what she felt? Or was she just allowing herself to be carried from moment to moment wherever instinct and intuition pulled her? Part of him couldn't help thinking that this would all end in tragedy, for one or both of them. He had never asked to feel for another person the way he'd felt for Lucrecia, and he had certainly never asked to have someone _want_ him. Not since Lucrecia, not since he'd woken up to find that he'd been turned from a man to a monster.

But here, with Tifa... he didn't feel so much like a monster anymore. He hadn't felt truly like one since the night she kissed him, when she accepted who and what he was. Holding her close with careful hands, he continued to lead the dance, eyes closed and mind barred against any further speculation until the song ended.

**Tifa: **

The next song followed the same vein, slow and soothing. Tifa was loath to relinquish her hold just yet and remained where she was. She lifted her head and smiled up at Vincent, resting her cheek against his as they moved. "Mmm, this is nice," she whispered quietly. "Much better than sitting inside doing _nothing_ but vacationing." A soft giggle followed. "Or you always having your nose in a book."

Tifa threaded one hand through long dark hair, watching it fall through her fingers. Gaia, she wanted nothing more than to kiss him senseless, but she was _adamant_ that _she_ wouldn't. She'd not really thought about the previous situation, reckoning that if she didn't, it would just go away and not bother her again. But she was being bothered. A lot. She knew she was _dangerously_ attracted to Vincent, that wasn't news. She craved his touch, his kiss, the smile in his eyes that lit just for her. His presence, his understanding, his strength. But she had to give something back, and that something was everything. And she honestly didn't know if she _could_.

She wasn't ready for the whole nine yards, curtains and white picket fences. Her life was still a metaphorical wreck and she didn't know how long it would take to fix it. If it _could_ be fixed. But it was getting harder and harder to deny it. She _wanted_ him, damnit. Tifa even fancied she loved him, at times. Well, of course she did.

But was it the platonic love she shared for all of them, or something different, something deeper, even more profound? She wasn't sure. In light of Cloud's death, her emotions were a tangle of unfamiliarity and confusion. A frown crossed her brow and she shook her head a bit, willing the speculation away. She wanted to enjoy this, not ruminate on it.

**Vincent: **

He opened his eyes when she shifted to lightly press her cheek to his and chuckled softly at her words, smiling. "Mmm hmm," was all he said in agreement. At the slight shake of her head, he almost asked if something was wrong, but decided against it. She was probably just confused about all this, just as she had been when he'd told her that they couldn't just have a one night stand. He couldn't, at least.

He did well to keep the thoughts from showing through his eyes as the song changed, but not the pace, which was kept slow and swaying. He took one of her hands in his own, thankful that he'd neglected to wear anything besides the leather and silicon sleeve over his left hand and arm, and began to lead her into a more proper dance, though just as close as before. He wasn't surprised at the grace with which she danced; it came natural to most of her movements.

The song ended, and the next melody was soft acoustic guitar picking the lead, with strings and piano occasionally adding to the background. The tune was sweet but sad, and the pace of their dance changed slightly. A little quicker, but no motion was wasted as he lead her. "You dance well," he said. It was all he could think of to say, that wouldn't damn one or both of them to repeat something they'd mutually decided to hold back on. If she didn't know how she felt, why was she doing this? And if he was supposedly adamant about staying friends until she knew what she did want, why was he letting this happen? _Because you want it. You_ want _her close_, that little voice told him. As frightening as it was, it was the truth.

**Tifa: **

Tifa didn't hesitate as Vincent led her into another, slightly different dance and rhythm. Their fingers laced together and bodies moved in perfect harmony, fitting against the other. A smile graced her lips to his compliment.

"Thanks," she replied softly after returning from a gentle spin. "Master Zanagan used to have us do some ballet stuff, even though we thought it was corny. But it paid off 'cause it taught balance and fluidity. I even liked it, so I learned how to do the traditional stuff, although I haven't been keeping in as much practice as I should." A rueful expression caught her countenance. "Don't have much time for it anyway, what with work and the kids. But I probably need to get back into the habit. Can't afford to get rusty."

The chorus sang out and Tifa hummed along with it, her movements picking up the intensity in the music, making her soul lighter. The bridge came quietly and the music decrescendoed; Tifa's breath hissed from between her lips as Vincent pulled her back against him as they swayed together. Glazed brown eyes met vermillion from beneath half lowered lashes during the quiet notes but the chorus flared, the guitar's swell pushed them away again, only for them to meet the other as they swirled around the porch. Tifa's head fell back, exposing a pale throat to the moonlight as she rocked to the haunting music, never loosening her grip on Vincent's hands. Gaia, but it felt _so_ good to just let go!

But, what measure of freedom was she willing to relinquish?

**Vincent: **

He listened to her, nodding at both her admission of the need for practice and that she really hadn't had the time. The corners of his lips remained turned upward in a minute smile. She seemed to really enjoy dancing, and he wondered when she'd last danced with anyone. Cloud didn't really strike Vincent as the dancing type, but then, Valentine supposed that no one would have seen the potential in himself, either. Or, more likely, the willingness.

Before things with Tifa escalated, he probably would not have consented to dance with anyone. Now, as he gently spun her once more and brought her flush against him, it felt like the most natural thing. Even as he dipped her slightly, held her there...Then looked into her eyes. He felt suddenly doomed.

The dark depths caught and refracted the moonlight in myriad strands, accented by the heavy frame of her lashes. Her hair fell behind her in lovely disarray, and they way she looked at him caused that ache to rise in his chest again. The chorus finished for the last time and played out into strings, ending on a sustained note. He kept her there, memorizing the picture of her face in the moonlight, shadowed only by the sharp angles of his bangs. He pulled her back up slowly, too close. Her nose brushed his and he held her there, biting the inside of his cheek to fight the urge to do anything more. Vincent wondered if she could see in his eyes how much he wanted to kiss her. He wouldn't, not yet, but _Gaia_ how he wanted to.

**Tifa: **

As the music ended, Tifa leaned back in Vincent's arms and wound her own around his neck, to keep from toppling to the floor. She hung there breathless for a long moment, until the echoes faded away. Rising as he pulled her upwards, she sighed a soft breath as their noses brushed and her eyes flew to his, a sharp ache in her lower stomach at the fires banked in the red irises.

Then the breeze caught Vincent's forelock and swept the strands across pale skin and Tifa's breath caught as the flames in his smoldering eyes leapt for just a minute second. Her teeth caught her lower lip in breathlessness and she shivered against him, slowly, resolutely sliding down his body until both heels met the wooden planks once again. Every touch made her ache.

A mewl began in her throat, an admission of perfect surrender, but what left her was, "…let's…go inside and go to bed, Vincent." A swift intake of breath as she realized what she _said_, then corrected, "I mean-! Go and get some sleep."

**Vincent: **

He took a breath and nodded, catching her meaning the first time. "Yes, it's getting late," he agreed and let her go. Part of him could have screamed in frustration, but the overwhelming majority of his brain accepted it as the best thing to do. The dance had been wonderful, but it was over now, and there was nothing to do but go back to platonic normality.

He turned the music off and carried the player inside, pausing to hold the door open for her. He put the machine back in its place within her room, narrowly dodging her on the way back through her bedroom door. A mumbled apology, then Vincent made his bed on the couch again. He glanced at the magazine that started all this, and snorted softly under his breath, which turned into a sigh.

At least the moments they had were breathtaking, even if they offered only torture through memories. Some pains were necessary, as long as, for a time, things felt _right._

_To be continued…_


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note:** **_Please_** see the notation in the first chapter.

**Disclaimer: **We, in no way whatsoever, own anything of and pertaining to the _Final Fantasy VII _or _Advent Children_ works; that right belongs to other fortunate souls. We also reap no monetary benefits from this exercise in literary creativity.

_**Chapter Seventeen: **_

**Tifa:**

Today was the last day of the two-week carouse on the beach. Cid would be arriving for them tomorrow. And off to Rocket Town they would go, to spend time with the pilot and his wife while renovations to _Heaven_ were taking place. Barret had called yesterday, jovially saying that the kids were doing just fine and, although they missed Tifa and Vincent terribly, they were having a great time seeing all the places Barret's work took him. Tifa felt _worlds_ better after hearing their beloved excited voices over Vincent's cell phone. It eased a worry on her heart. Even Denzel had sounded like his old self.

So it was with a cheerful smile and a light heart she pulled on her bathing suit and stepped into her flip-flops. Emerging from the bedroom, she spied her housemate sprawled on the couch, finishing the last of his book. Tifa playfully tossed her towel at him, hitting him square in the face.

"Come on, Vincent. You can read later. We have to go swimming now." The sun was waning and the public beach was closed, leaving the sand free for the private residents of the cottages.

She placed hands on her hips and cocked a foot. "You've only gotten in the water _once_ and I know I said I wouldn't ask again…" Her grin flashed and she stuck out her tongue. "…but I lied. So c'mon."

**Vincent: **

He frowned at her and tossed the towel back. "Why? You can go without me..." As if the first time hadn't been bad enough, and then there was the shopping trip. Now she wanted an encore of him looking completely silly as she swam circles around him? No, thank you. He would not be swayed again.

He looked up at her over his book and held her impatient glare. Then she went into a tirade about how they might not get the chance to do this again for a long, long time (all the better, in his opinion) and then it came down to whining. Well, almost whining. The sort of look a woman gives a man when she wants something he doesn't want to give her that says quite plainly, "I _will_ make you regret this."

Finally, with a sigh that spoke volumes about how little he wanted to do this, he put his book aside and went into the bathroom, emerging a moment later wearing the black trunks she'd bought him and looking every inch a pale vampire or ghost, with a towel slung over his shoulder and his left glove still in place.

"Fine. But I'm not staying in for long," he warned as they walked out the door - only after he peered around outside to make sure no one else was on the beach. He was still more than a little self-conscious about his appearance around others. The sun still lit the sky, but only with the warm glow it left behind in the wake of its descent. The breeze was still warm, and even Vincent had to admit that it was the perfect time for swimming, if one was to be forced to partake.

**Tifa:**

Disgustingly victorious, Tifa smirked to herself the entire way to the water. She'd won, again. Hn, few weeks of practice and she was getting better at this whole _male_ thing. Well, as far as the playing part went. It was the serious stuff that eluded her. For the time being, anyway.

But she gleefully and happily splashed into the water, diving in and stroking out through the waves for a bit. She surfaced, pushing drenched hair over her face and turned to look for her reluctant companion. She hated swimming alone, it was _never_ as much fun as having a friend along and she wasn't about to let him while away inside doing _nothing_ but grow mold on the blasted couch!

**Vincent: **

While Tifa wore her smirk, Vincent's frown remained plastered upon his face, just to let her know of his continued displeasure. He watched her dive in and zip around like an otter, while he only waded in waist-deep and stood there, refusing to begin the doggy-paddle flailing just yet. He still felt so awkward in the water, even after she'd taught him how to properly stay afloat. He wrote it off as it just not being his cup of tea, as everyone had things they were and weren't good at. Tifa was at home in the water. Vincent was not, and for good reason with _her_ around. Her horse-play from the last swim came to mind.

**Tifa:**

Tifa made her way back to Vincent, still standing just waist deep in the water. "What's the matter, Vincent?" she inquired a bit breathlessly. "Not gonna tempt fate again, are we?" A chuckle. "Aww, come _on_, you big baby. I won't let anything get you." Splashing him lightly, she skittered away again, bobbing up and down with the motion of the waves.

**Vincent: **

His frown deepened and he moved toward her... and that's when he felt _it_. Something brushed against his leg, no... it _bounced_ off his leg. Something large, something _squishy_. The former Turk's eyes widened and he froze. _It can't be_, he thought. _Probably just seaweed_... The "seaweed" bumped his leg again, then slid past... And ignited the most _horrible, gods-forsaken **agony**_ in his leg...!

Vincent bit back a yelp and backpedaled instantly. As bad luck would have it, an ebbing wave took his feet out from under him and his ass hit the sandy bottom while his head slipped under the surface. The _thing_ tangled around his leg as its wispy tentacles were helplessly swept by the current, but Valentine _swore_ it did it on purpose. At last, the last few tentacles still wrapped around his appendage tore free, and the disoriented jelly floated away, slowly gaining its bearings again and swimming back out to sea, likely to terrorize another person another day.

Vincent picked the searing strings off with his gloved hand, panting. Once free he scrambled up the beach to a safe distance and looked out at the water, eyes still wide as he sat in the sand. "Son... of a _bitch_!" he cursed, slapping the sand once and causing grains to go flying into the water. It was only then that he looked back to Tifa, and began to grow rather red.

**Tifa:**

Tifa turned back just in time to hear Vincent yell then disappear under water as if his feet had been yanked out from under him. She gasped, inhaling seawater as he flailed and didn't reappear. Tifa was almost there when he popped above water again, panting as if he'd been rabbit punched in the stomach and scrambled to the beach, collapsing in the sand and swearing sulfurously. Tifa missed the evil jellyfish and concentrated on getting to shore, concerned for her roommate.

Finally her feet encountered solid sand and she ran to him, falling to her knees beside him, concern and a bit of worry evident on her face. "Vincent!" she panted, a bit breathless from the exertion of fighting the current, "are you all right! What happened?"

Worried eyes hurriedly examined him; she didn't see anything terribly wrong. Strong hands gripped his shoulders. "Are you okay?" she demanded again.

**Vincent: **

"It was a jellyfish," he droned, looking down at his leg. "I'll be fine." _But it hurts like a fucker, as Cid might say_, his mind swore as air hissed between his teeth every time he touched his leg, and often when he just let it stay still.

"I'd rather be shot..." he grumbled. _Again_. Angry red welts were beginning to form in stripes that criss-crossed his leg from ankle to knee, and now he was having a hard time wiggling his toes in that foot. _Planet-damned jellyfish..._

**Tifa:**

Sympathy and guilt immediately welled in Tifa's eyes. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Vincent," she said, looking down at the marks beginning to form on his leg. "If I hadn't drug you out here…damnit!" She looked back towards the house.

"Can you stand up? We can put ice on it and there's some cortisone ointment for stings that will help dull the pain." She took his arm to offer help getting to his feet if he needed it.

**Vincent: **

He shook his head, "I'll be all right." But at the guilty look on her face, he sighed and let her help him up. "Well... it _is_ your fault." He let the comment sink in, then added, "But I might know how you can make up for it..." He leaned on her a bit, hopping on his unharmed leg and using the other one as little as possible.

**Tifa:**

Tifa only half-glowered at him as she helped him rise. "Rub it in, why don't you?" she grunted, ducking her head under his arm to let it rest across her shoulders. "C'mon, here we go. We'll get you some ice and doctor the leg. And I'll make you coffee. With some brandy in it. Sound good?"

It took a few minutes, but they finally made it to the porch and Tifa opened the door, propping it open with her hip to let Vincent hobble inside. While he leaned against the wall, she hurried for clean towels and draped as many as she could over the couch then helped him ease down atop it. She propped the injured leg on pillows after _carefully_ dusting away sand and bustled to the kitchen for a bag of ice.

Returning with it, she gently applied pressure against the sting, saying again, "I'm _sorry_, all right? Here, hold this while I get some cortisone."

**Vincent: **

He winced at every touch as she brushed the sand away, and took in her apology with, "Mm hmm. I'll think about accepting that after the coffee." It was better to be mildly humorous than be genuinely mad, and _anything_ that took his mind off the thousand tiny needles assaulting his leg was a plus. When she applied the cortisone, he didn't make a sound, only bit his lip and breathed deep and steady.

_What a _wonderful _end to a vacation_, he thought. He started to feel bad about the incident interrupting her last swim, but realized that he was the one coming out on the bad end of things.

**Tifa:**

She gave him a look beneath her lashes as she doctored his leg. Capping the ointment, she stood and handed it to him. "All right. I'll go make your coffee." And she did, tapping nails impatiently against the counter as the water took _years_ to drip.

Ten minutes later, she poured the thick aromatic liquid into "his" cup and added a healthy dollop of brandy to the concoction. Cradling the full cup in both hands, she brought it to him and knelt down beside the couch, handing it over. "And here you go." A knot of sympathy furrowed her brow. "Feel any better?"

**Vincent: **

He didn't, really. He still couldn't quite feel his foot, and the sting was still almost as bad as when it first happened, lessened only by the ointment. Yet he sipped the coffee and sighed at the comforting flavor and half-lied, "A little. It's not _really _your fault. You didn't know that thing would be there."

That much was the truth, and she was being such a good nurse that it made him feel a bit guilty for even picking at her. He gave her a tired half-smile, "I'm sorry that ruined your last swim for this vacation." He couldn't stay self-centered for very long, much to his chagrin.

**Tifa:**

"Well, it coulda been worse," she said with a melancholy, yet relieved sigh. "It could have been _me_ that got stung, instead of you." Tifa's eyes twinkled and she grinned mischievously, poking his arm. She wrapped the ice bag in a dish cloth and reapplied it to the wounded leg after examining it once more.

"Do you want me to bring you some clean clothes, or…" she faltered a bit but pushed on, "give you a hand or something?"

**Vincent: **

He _was _thankful the evil thing had found him as its victim instead of her, but she didn't have to almost chortle over it. Biting his lip as she reapplied the ice, Vincent's brow furrowed and he honestly thought of saying, "No, I can just sit here half naked and air dry." The thought of sliding any sort of fabric over his leg in either direction was enough to make him consider spending the rest of the night in sand-crusted trunks. The sand that dug into his ass suggested otherwise.

Instead of answering, he looked at her quizzically, one brow lifted, "You'd do that?" Not that he'd want her to, but anything to stall the discomfort of dressing. He knew his extraordinary healing abilities were saving him a trip to the hospital, and that by morning there probably wouldn't be any pain left, or even marks. Vincent was only wishing that it would just hurry up and heal, now.

**Tifa:**

Tifa gave him a "duh" look. "Of _course_ I would, Vincent. It's hard to stand up, isn't it? And if you topple over, you won't get dressed very quickly. Kinda defeats the purpose, doesn't it?" Without waiting for his answer, she got to her feet and went to the bathroom, muttering to herself about the questionable intelligence capacity of the male mind. Locating his neatly folded sleeping pants, Tifa returned with them and tossed them on the coffee table.

"All right," she said matter-of-factly, "do you want to try to rinse off, or just change clothes? Either way, give me your hand and I'll help you."

**Vincent: **

Vincent fancied that he could see the peripheral red glow of his face while she talked so nonchalantly of helping him dress. Joking about it might be one thing, but he had reservations about being entirely naked around _anyone_, simply out of a modest nature.

"That's... really not necessary. I can dress on my own," he said, though made no attempt to get up just yet. He was waiting for his toes to show some sign of life.

**Tifa:**

Tifa shrugged. "All right, then. If you say so. I'mma go in the bedroom and change. Yell if you need anything, okay?" Saying thus, Tifa walked into the bedroom, just as she'd said and closed the door halfway, as to hear if Vincent _did_ require any assistance. She felt rather proud of her knees not knocking _too_ badly during all that clinical talk of dressing and _un_dressing. Breathing evenly had helped, too.

Hurriedly she shed her own suit, dried off and dressed in pajamas. This was about all the excitement she wanted for one day.

**Vincent: **

Vincent sighed in relief once she'd left him there. Then he waited. And waited. Still, his toes refused to do anything his brain told them to. Well, one working leg was better than none, so he carefully removed the ice pack and set one, then both feet on the floor. There, that wasn't too bad. He grabbed the pants from the coffee table and stood very carefully, then began slowly hobbling to the bathroom. He didn't feel _quite _comfortable changing clothes in the living room. He was doing well, so he'd thought, but that was soon proven wrong when a thud and a muttered curse could be heard from near the bathroom.

**Tifa:**

_Figured_, Tifa thought wearily, hearing the noise. She rose from bed and padded through the living room, pausing near the bathroom hall. "Vincent?" she called around the corner, "you all right?" Hearing more muttered profanity, she sighed and rounded the corner, spying her housemate attempting once more to regain his feet.

"Calm down," she said soothingly, taking his right arm and helping him to his still shaky feet. "You don't have to be machismo for little old me," she teased with a grin. Pushing open the bathroom door with her hip, she escorted Vincent inside, pushing him down on the edge of the bathtub and reached around him to turn on the warm water.

"Quit trying to be Mr. Bravado and let me help you, goose," she told him a bit firmly.

**Vincent: **

Both a blush and a scowl remained firmly set on his face, but this time he didn't protest her aid. She ran the water and adjusted the temperature, but in truth he only intended to get in, get out, and just be rid of the sand that had gotten into his trunks as he'd flailed around in the struggle with the jellyfish. Wherever it was now, he sincerely hoped it was suffering some long, excruciating death.

Tifa took the pants from him and set them on the counter of the sink, then set a fluffy, clean towel on the edge of the tub beside him. When the water was done, she turned it off, but Vincent made no move to get up. Maybe she would just let him do the rest on his own without him having to say anything.

**Tifa:**

Getting the hint, Tifa left the bathroom, closing the door behind her. But she stood outside, listening for any telltale noises of Vincent falling face first in the water, slipping on the tile and breaking his other leg, or any other emergency. She only heard silence, however, then the rasp of wet cloth catching on skin as it was removed, followed by the small _slap_ as the trunks hit the floor. Maybe he could manage well enough, she thought hastily, _knowing_ her face was aflame at her mind's eye's thoughts. Gaia, she was becoming _such_ a terrible girl!

**Vincent: **

He eased into the water, only to find that it set the nerves in his right leg ablaze again, which called for a bath with that leg propped on the edge of the tub. A little awkward, but workable. Fifteen minutes later, he drained the tub and after quite a bit of slippery effort, managed to stand. He toweled off and stepped out of the tub, numb foot first, and belatedly discovered how bad of an idea that was as it slid straight out from under him.

Quick thinking caused him to haul the other foot over the side of the tub to avoid any serious injury, but his right hand caught the shower curtain out of instinct as he fought to stay upright. He hit the floor, dragging with him both the curtain and the rod it was attached to. He refrained from saying so much as a word, but felt utterly, utterly stupid. Today was simply _not _a good day.

**Tifa:**

Tifa was just pouring coffee when she heard the muffled thump and clatter resounding from the bathroom. She quickly put down the cups and hurried down the hall, opening the door to see Vincent on the floor, tangled in the shower curtain with the metal rod sticking up from the tub at a weirdly odd angle. Tifa said nothing either, merely helped him up and methodically aided him in getting dressed, eyes averted modestly. Mostly to keep her own damned wanton thoughts from railroading completely out of her ears and down to her traitorous hands.

"All right," she said after he was covered. "Into bed with you." Stilling his forthcoming protestations, she said, "_My_ decision, Vincent. There's no way you can sleep on that couch. So just shush about it. It'll be all right," she smiled reassuringly. "I won't bite and I'll keep my hands to myself." Although it sounded like a playful tease, Tifa knew better. She repeated the fervent oath to herself, however.

**Vincent: **

Despite all embarrassment and protests, Vincent really did appreciate her attention. She had even - as far as he could tell - kept her eyes entirely on the wall or the floor as she had helped him dress. Once settled into bed as per her orders, he sighed in contentment. It felt _worlds _better than the cramped couch, which he'd been far too tall to sleep comfortably on. They said their goodnights, with her gentle kiss upon his cheek and, such a rarity, his returned gesture on hers.

The lights were turned out and as she had promised, she kept to her side of the bed. The next morning they finished packing, just in time for Cid to come knocking on the door with a smile and a "Get yer tails in gear, already. I wanna show ya some modifications to the Highwind!" Which Vincent interpreted could only mean that they had better secure everything they took on-board the ship and be glad they hadn't eaten a heavy breakfast.

**Tifa:**

The vacation, despite its rough spots, did _wonders_ for Tifa. That and the excitement of seeing Cid and Shera, having the modifications to _Heaven_ going smoothly brightened her days and kept her in a relatively chipper mood round the clock. During the three weeks she and Vincent spent in Rocket Town, they traversed back to Midgar four times, each time suffering Cid's good natured grumbling about the costs of fuel and equipment to keep his ships in the air. Tifa promised she'd provide a few barrels of free tap when they finally reopened the bar and the pilot was somewhat mollified.

Barret called frequently, updating everyone on his and the children's adventures. Tifa missed them desperately, but didn't want to interrupt the kids when they were having such good times with the large man. Goodness knew Marlene missed her dad and Denzel had never been out of Midgar before; no doubt he was enjoying all the travel, if his excited prattles on the phone were any indication.

During one of the latter Midgar visits, Tifa and Vincent poured over different color schemes for the interior of the bar. The upstairs wasn't quite ready to be decorated, but the project manager, a Mike Jorsan, had assured them that the top floor would be ready in less than three weeks. Tifa finally decided on a low, dark scheme of black, red and silver for the downstairs part of _Heaven_.

Taking a few hours to inspect the handiwork, she gazed around her former home with a sigh, part melancholy and part satisfaction. Memories still lived here, memories of friends passed and gone, memories of war and death. But, gazing around the newly refurnished and remodeled bar, Tifa felt those little remembrances slowly make the journey to the back of her mind, to be locked away and semi-forgotten. _This_ was a new _Heaven_, and the new memories that would be made here filled her with a contentment and excitement she'd not known in a long, long while. She noted that the basic structure changes had been finished already and the paint crew was scheduled to begin just after the upstairs was finished.

When she'd asked for a definite time frame of returning, Mike had explained the process and told her and Vincent that they could begin moving in furniture around three to four weeks, allowing variations due to weather and material availability. Tifa was thrilled and pulled Vincent on yet _another_ shopping spree, spending quite a bit more than was good for her. They'd already purchased the downstairs furniture; tables, chairs, barstools, updated glasses and dishes. Tifa planned to keep what of her old stuff she could, but she definitely wanted to make the new home as comfortable and as attractive as possible.

**Vincent: **

Life with Cid and Shera proved... interesting. Vincent hadn't seen how truly _whipped _the pilot was until he witnessed the pair in their home setting. Shera was always gentle and sweet, but Cid complied with her every request, sometimes only after an initial refusal met with a certain type of smiling glare and a "Ciiiid..."

Vincent wasn't sure how that held so much sway over the grouchy man, but such were the ways of women. The gunslinger wondered if Tifa might ever order him around like that, whether or not they were in a relationship. Then he decided it was unlikely, simply because he volunteered to do things rather than tinkering on "projects" all the time. The time passed more quickly than he had expected, with Tifa becoming more excited every trip.

The shopping had almost killed him with boredom, but there were a few things he picked out at her insistence. Half the time she wound up going with something different, but indecisiveness was her nature. When all the major decor was decided, they had an interior designer make a tiny scale model of the downstairs in its projected finished form. To Vincent it looked rather good, to Tifa it was exactly how _Seventh Heaven_ should have looked all along.

With only a few weeks left before most of it was finished, the days at Cid and Shera's house were spent mostly coordinating everything. Not today. No, today Shera insisted on a day of relaxation, followed by dinner at a small restaurant. She said it was a special occasion, and when Tifa and Vincent looked to Cid in question, he'd only shrugged and scratched his head.

**Tifa:**

Her tan was nice, Tifa decided, exiting the large pool behind the house. And truly, it was wonderful to swim in clean, chlorine clear water, which beat the salty ocean hands down. Today'd been relaxing, she thought, which was exactly what Shera had proposed over breakfast earlier that morning. "You two have been chasing your tails since you _got_ here," she informed Vincent and Tifa both. "And you've just come _back_ from vacation," she smiled. "Don't get too stressed too early."

Thus, working was outlawed for today. Which suited Tifa fine. She'd wanted to ruminate on some ideas for _Heaven_ anyway. Such as uniforms for her employees. Sprawling on a beach chair to drip-dry, Tifa leaned back and closed her eyes, going through sketches in her mind. An acquaintance of hers, Mrs. Julia Cappell, ran a modest design company back in Edgetown and Tifa had prevailed upon her for the uniforms. Julia had faxed her a few sketches before their last Midgar trip and Tifa had her mind made up by the time they arrived.

She'd planned on a black and red ensemble; black slacks and skirts, black silk shirts for the men and white silk for the women (herself included) and dark red, almost burgundy vests for both. Julia had put together a few different vest styles for her to bring back and choose from, along with a black shirt in the style she'd liked. She really needed to get those picked out and send back to Julia for tailoring. A grin curved her lips. Why not do that right now? Goodness knew there wasn't anything else to do until five pm, when Shera had announced they'd be strolling to town for dinner.

Slinging her towel over her shoulder, Tifa hummed as she went inside and showered, changing into comfortable shorts and a t-shirt. Pilfering through her luggage, she retrieved what she sought and hummed down the hall to Vincent's room, knocking politely. Easing the door open, she peeked around it and opened it further as she spied the gunslinger perched comfortably on his bed, idly working oil into his gunbelt and holster.

"Hey there," Tifa smiled, coming into the room. "I have something for you." With a ruthless air, she grinned and laid out the shirt and different vests on the end of the bed, saying, "Try these on for me? Uniforms, for work. Black pants; I know you have some. I want to see what looks the best."

**Vincent: **

Vincent looked up at her from his task, paused, then looked at the clothes. Then he blinked, once, and again. That they were red was fine. But a couple were a bit on the flashy side. One was even _sparkly_, however subtly. He sighed heavily.

"Now?" he asked, and naturally, she confirmed that he did indeed have to do it now. Ever compliant, to a _fault _he told himself, he put away the mink oil and gunbelt and pulled out the best black slacks he had from his suitcase. She stepped out to give him privacy, and a few moments later he opened the door for her to come back in. He hadn't yet put on a vest, just the shirt and pants. He looked over them, and as was his nature, chose the plainest, darkest and least shiny of them all.

He slipped it on and buttoned it and turned to her, "How about this one?"

**Tifa:**

Tifa came back inside and looked Vincent over speculatively as he turned to her. One dark eyebrow lifted. Her lips twitched. "That one's a little _too_ dark, I think. Let's try the other one."

Rather than let him do it himself, Tifa bustled over and unbuttoned the vest, pulled it off his shoulders and all but dressed him again, this time in the print version. Smoothing the material over his shoulders, she came round in front and buttoned it herself, straightening the ends and stepping back critically. Although it looked nice, it still wasn't what she wanted.

Stripping him of that one, she tried another, _this_ one the sparkliest and most obnoxious of the ones she'd brought. "Good heavens, no," she said with a moue of distaste. "You're not a dancing girl, Vincent. Hn, let's do this one."

She put the last one on him, the medium glittery vest and stepped back to view her handiwork. Her lips pursed as she sucked her lower. Finally, she nodded. "Yeah, I like that one. I was sorta predispositioned to like it anyways, since it looks the best on you, but I just wanted to see you in it." She winked at him.

"Even though _you'll_ never believe me," she teased, stepping closer and undoing the buttons to remove it.

**Vincent: **

He frowned as she stated that the very one he almost liked was too dark, then with a resigned sigh allowed her to dress him like a mannequin. He whole-heartedly agreed with her when it came to the sparkliest of them, but looked at her with incredulity concerning her choice.

"Tifa... this _glistens_. I look like a toned-down, red disco ball." He wasn't quite whining, but he wanted it to be clear that he was not happy. The shirt? Great. It even felt comfortable. The pants? They were fine, what he preferred wearing anyway. The vest? He could very well do without it... or at least with the one _he'd _picked.

"How about the waiters wear this and I wear something different?" It was worth a try, though he knew he wouldn't get off that easily. Tifa was apparently bound and determined to have a sparkly bartender. He could just _hear _Cid now... "My _God_, Sunshine! You look like somethin' outta the Golden Saucer!"

Wait, that didn't come from Vincent's imagination. To his mild mortification, Cid stood in the doorway, half leaning on the frame as he guffawed. Vincent frowned at him and wished Tifa had gotten the vest off of him a little quicker.

Cid pointed to the more obnoxious item that had been rejected, "Try that one on, Vince! I wanna see if you can reflect light onto the walls like in them clubs!"

Vincent feigned a curt smile, "I did. You missed it. If you want it, I'm sure Tifa will let you have it. You can hang it in your bedroom, to give Shera something to look at when she gets bored with you. She can count the sequins instead of the ceiling tiles."

The blond's laughter turn quickly into a flat glare as he retorted, "She doesn't have _time _to count nothin', Valentine. She's too busy su-"

A smack on the back of the head halted that sentence right quick as Shera appeared behind the pilot, who now rubbed the back of his head and winced. "What lovely conversationalists you both are," she said. "Oh, Tifa! Are those the uniforms? Which did you pick?" Shera bustled into the room and began picking over the vests and admiring both them and the shirt Vincent wore.

**Tifa:**

Tifa snorted. "Oh, you do not," she retorted, stripping the vest down his arms and folding it neatly, placing it beside the others. "And quit whining. It wouldn't be _uniform_ if everyone wore something different." One brow arched.

"If you want, I can get you a white kitchen apron to wear. I'm _sure_ that'd be preferable, wouldn't it?" She turned as Cid drawled from the doorway, nearly choking down laughter as Cid poked no end of fun at the gunslinger and snerking to Vincent's frosty reply.

Grinning doofily at Shera as the other woman breezed inside after swatting her crass husband, she retrieved the vest again, turning Vincent around rather abruptly and putting it back on him, brooking no refusal as she maneuvered his arms in the sleeves and buttoned the front. "That one."

She stepped back and both she and Shera squinted at Vincent. "I liked the other, but it was a bit _too_ bright." She smiled wryly. "Vincent already thinks he looks like a garish disco ball as it is. His words. I'd have to offer all sorts of deviant favors to get him in it in _public_," she said, to which Shera choked on a giggle and turned back to Vincent.

"It doesn't look _that_ bad, Vincent," she told him, shooting Cid a look for his muttered comment of, "Nah, just like a whorehouse's porchlight."

Tifa laughed. "I'm going to have white shirts for the women, though. All the black's just a bit depressing."

Shera nodded and the two conversed about fabric and colors for a bit while Tifa retrieved the offending vest and folded everything neatly.

"Well," she said, picking up the clothes, "that's settled and I can call Julia about the selections. We'll have them ready for opening night."

Cid rolled his eyes outrageously but Tifa merely smiled sweetly at him. "And if _you_ ever happen to work behind my bar, you'll be in one too, Cid, so watch your mouth, Captain."

He snorted and shifted his cigarette from one side of his mouth to the other. "Sunshine, you better have job security, cause I ain't gonna be caught _dead_ in that getup, ya hear me?"

Shera looked at him in speculation. "I don't know, you might not look so bad in it, provided you drop some weight, dear. That 'old man' belly's getting frightfully visable, you know."

Tifa couldn't help her giggles as Cid flamed red and spluttered at his wife, who merely winked at Tifa and preceded him out, saying, "C'mon, you two. Get dressed and we'll head down to dinner. I'm positively famished."

**Vincent: **

Famished, she certainly was. Once they'd all gotten dressed for dinner - Vincent wearing almost the same thing he was wearing before, only cotton - they'd headed to a small restaurant called "The Rocket Top." Gaia help them, the people in this town sure liked anything that flew, especially if it had to do with the town's namesake. It was casual dining, with a semi-dark, relaxed atmosphere and friendly staff. Anyone who wasn't already starving would soon be, with the smell of the food that wafted in the air.

Shera, to Vincent and Tifa's surprise, had ordered a plate of ribs. To Cid's shock, she'd insisted he order something on his own, since she had no intention of sharing. Once everyone had received their food and had downed enough of it to quiet any hunger pains, dinner slowed in pleasant conversation, sometimes witty banter.

Just before dessert, Shera grinned impishly, "Well, I guess I should tell you all what the occasion is..." Cid snorted, "'Bout time, babe." Shera's smile only widened. "Well, there's really no way to properly build you all up for it, so I'll just come out and say it. I'm _pregnant_!"

The drink that had been in Cid's mouth spewed across the table and right into Vincent's face. What was worse was that his mouth had been hanging open at the time. While he made possibly the most disgusted face, Cid sputtered, still choking, "Y-you... you're _what_? Baby... are you _serious_?"

The gleeful smile gave no room for doubt as she nodded, "Two months along. We're gonna have a baby!"

Cid's eyes threatened to tumble out of his skull as she hugged him. One could see in his eyes the workings of his mind attempting to put together the words "we" and "baby," then "me" and "Daddy."

Having managed to wipe most of Cid's drink off his face and shirt, Vincent nodded to the pair, his feelings subdued by being so thoroughly showered. "Congratulations."

**Tifa:**

Cid wasn't the only one shocked by Shera's little announcement. Fork poised over her salad, the bite halfway to her mouth, Tifa's eyes widened and her own mouth hung frozen for a long minute, then she dropped the fork and squealed in delight.

"Really!" she exclaimed, jumping up from her seat and flying around the table to hug the other woman after Shera'd released her thunderstruck husband. "That's _great_!" Tifa beamed, squeezing her again.

Shera laughed and exchanged embraces before Tifa returned to her seat, a bit flushed at everyone staring at them. She grinned at Vincent as he wiped beer from his face and laughed outright at his disgusted expression. Tifa looked at Cid, who was still sitting dumfounded in his chair.

"Cid's gonna be a _daddy_!" she crowed. "Oh, I've _got_ to call Barret! And Yuffie!" She clapped her hands in delight. "Cid's gonna be a _daddy_!" she reiterated, all but bouncing in her seat. "Oh, I can't _wait_!"

Tempered glee lit her eyes as she giggled and returned to her salad. "Have you picked out names yet?" she eagerly asked Shera. "Oh! And when the bar's done, Yuffie and I will come and help you set up the nursery."

At the word "nursery", Tifa smiled evilly at Cid's blanched face. "Aw, c'mon, Cid!" she teased. "Wouldn't you just _love_ the little one's room all decorated with clouds and chubby airplanes and rocket ships?"

**Vincent: **

Cid just stared at her, flummoxed. "I... I..." He trailed off into silence and emptied his beer, "So long as no one give him any dumb names," he finally said, then gave Shera a squeeze as an afterthought.

Vincent could tell the man was still blown away. Hell, he'd probably never sat down and considered having children, or the possibilities. Dinner passed in a hurry with celebratory splurging on desserts, and the four stayed up well into the night. The women did most of the talking, as seemed to be their hobby, and Cid began to adjust to the idea. Phone calls were made and every single person notified insisted on telling Cid congratulations as well as poking fun at him.

"We can only hope the kid gets Shera's looks!" Yuffie had said, only to be half cursed-out over the phone. The remaining weeks were a blur of preparation and planning, now not only for the bar, but the baby on the way. Though it wasn't due soon, Tifa had insisted on looking at this or that with Shera while they were there, on the claim that one could never start preparing too early.

A few more trips were made to Midgar, and finally - a little over two and a half months after construction had begun - they were informed that the bar area and living quarters were ready. The main dining area would take a little more time, as would the billiards room, but everything else was ready for business. That was all that counted, and Vincent knew that the sooner they could begin making back some of the money spent, the better.

It would be good for Tifa as well, getting back into the routine of work and seeing her dreams for the place come to fruition. So it was that they packed their bags into the _Highwind _to return, hopefully, to life as they'd known it before. Perhaps even better.

_To be continued…_


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's note and disclaimer and all that good stuff. Blah, blah. **

**WARNING! I have changed the rating on this story for a _reason_! Please don't be upset if you read something you shouldn't. I'm waving signal fires and bright orange flags _RIGHT NOW_ to alleviate this very problem. So, from here on, you've been warned and I take no responsibility for the content. The story is as the story is and all that. So, enjoy, hm? **

**_Chapter Eighteen: _**

**Tifa: **

Two hours before opening time, Tifa stared around in wonder. The place looked so different, yet almost exactly the same. What had once been the far wall was now an expansive dance floor that led to a raised dais for live music. The band performing tonight was currently in the process of setting up; some up and coming act hoping for a bit of stardom. She'd listened to a demo of their music and actually liked it. "The Rose's Thorn", as they called themselves, ranged from old ballads, blues, to rock and pop. Later, she would discuss with the members a temporary contract, if reception was good. For nights when there wasn't any live music, she'd incorporated a jukebox into one corner of the main floor.

She ran loving fingers over the bar itself, the high black sheen gleaming under her touch. Everything was so _pretty_. Vincent had given a minute inspection and grudgingly admitted he could find nothing to change to make his job easier. Tifa had smirked. Dezra and Rolfe had been awestruck with the new layout of the place and Tifa had even hired a few extra hands to kick off the opening.

The bar itself was about a half longer than it had originally been, so she'd taken on another apprentice bartender, a young man by the name of Chris, whom Vincent got the dubious pleasure of training. Tifa grinned; the gunslinger had been just _overjoyed_ with that prospect. But Chris was cute and working his way thorough University and seemed reliable and willing. Dezra brought in two of her friends for Tifa to interview and both worked out just fine. The kitchen was still underway, so there was no need for chefs just yet, but Rolfe had inspected his domain and made the necessary adjustments, grinning at her as he came out and pronounced everything top-shape.

A thump from abovestairs resounded and Tifa grinned, heading to the back and mounting the brand new stairs to the newly finished living quarters, where all her old friends were currently gathered to celebrate _Heaven_'s opening. Barret sat on the couch with Marlene bouncing atop his knee and Cid and Shera shared the loveseat in Tifa's brand new living room. Nanaki was lounging in the divan she'd had put in just for him, his tail swishing lazily. Yuffie was plunked in the armchair, one leg hung over the arm, swinging. Vincent was sprawled comfortably in his recliner, a black patent leather confection he'd bought himself, telling her he wanted at least _one_ piece of furniture that was _comfortable_. She'd swatted him for ragging on her living room set and informed him loftily that they would soften with use and time. Denzel was perched half in his lap and half on the chair arm, one sneakered foot swinging.

The little boy had missed his hero, he'd told Tifa upon their return home. Indeed, when they'd picked up Barret and the kids in Corel, Marlene had streaked to Tifa and Denzel to Vincent, hugging his waist tightly. Tifa had nearly cried, so glad was she for Denzel's acceptance and happiness. He still missed Cloud, she knew, for she still did as well, but the wounds were healing. Tifa took a seat on the couch next to Barret and Marlene and talk mostly centered on Shera's pregnancy and the upcoming evening.

Barret, wonder of wonders, agreed to wear the black uniform and run security for a few days, but he categorically refused to wear the vest. Tifa smiled; she didn't have one to fit him anyway. The others, besides Vincent who was actively employed, would just enjoy the atmosphere and relish being around old friends. A while later, the group dispersed to their respective rooms to prepare for the evening.

There were five bedrooms abovestairs; the master bedroom and full bath, which was Tifa's room, the room for the kids, which sported bunk beds, something the two had been begging for since forever, Vincent's room, and two guest rooms, which were occupied by Cid and Shera, sharing one, and Yuffie and Nanaki in the other. Tifa had put a comfortable fold out couch in the office, which was also upstairs, which Barret rumbled he would use.

Tifa headed downstairs to let her staff in and she had to admit the outfits looked _great_. Rolfe, being in the kitchen, was excused from the silk, but he did wear the black shirt and slacks. After bustling around making sure _everything_ was set up and ready, she tore herself away from being a busybody and hustled upstairs to shower and dress.

**Vincent:**

Once the group dispersed, Vincent went immediately to the bar to begin opening the bottles of alcohol and putting the pour-spouts in them for the mixed drinks. He gave everything one more look, and sighed in amazement. It really was almost perfect. He used the term "almost" because one never knew until the area was put to use. He'd been trailed by Denzel, who insisted on helping. Vincent allowed him to hand him the spouts, even though it was just as easily done alone.

After a few minutes, Denzel looked up at Vincent and asked, "So... when do you think I can try some of this stuff?" He said it in a mature a voice as possible, but Vincent still raised a brow at him.

"When you're older."

Denzel frowned, "How old?"

Vincent thought for a moment, then smiled minutely. "My age."

He watched the boy's brow furrow and chuckled as Denzel asked, "How old are you?"

Vincent began arranging the bottles back under the counter. "Guess."

Denzel thought for a moment, "... twenty-five?" It seemed like a good guess to him.

Vincent chuckled, "No. Older."

The lines between Denzel's eyes deepened, "... 30?"

When Vincent shook his head, the boy's eyes widened and he kept guessing.

Finally he said, "You're joking, right? You just can't be that old! You'd like... have a wheelchair or something."

Vincent almost laughed outright at the image, but instead just smirked after a short huff. "Actually, this October will be my sixtieth birthday, officially. Don't tell anyone, though."

Denzel shook his head firmly, "I won't. I promise. But why don't you look old? Like that guy across the street, or at least Uncle Cid..."

Vincent chuckled as Denzel's face scrunched up. "Well, do you remember the scientist that caused all the problems with Sephiroth?"

Denzel hummed and nodded, then said, "Tifa said he did bad experiments on Sephiroth and Cloud, and lots of other people."

The gunslinger nodded, "I was one of those people, a long, long time ago. He did something that made me not age like everyone else."

The boy took a moment to comprehend it, then nodded. "I'm glad you don't age like that." Vincent quirked a brow and asked, "Why's that?" Denzel grinned, "'Cuz you wouldn't be nearly as cool as an old fart."

A wry smirk found its way to the ex-Turk's lips. "Thank you," he said with a hint of sarcasm. "And watch your language. Tifa's gotten onto you about it more than once. Now, go upstairs and play with Marlene. She's looking for you."

Denzel was about to ask how Vincent knew that, then Marlene ran into the room panting.

"Denzel! I've been looking all over! This place is too _big_... you didn't hear me yelling?"

The man smirked and watched the children bound over toward the stage to look at all the equipment set up, but already they knew not to touch any of it. Vincent took one more look around the empty space and envisioned it as the bustling party it was about to be, then headed upstairs to change clothes.

Despite all his stubbornness about picking anything out, Vincent had finally picked out every last piece of furniture for his room at Tifa's insistence, and was _more_ than satisfied. Everything was perfect, functional, dark, and comfortable. He put on the black slacks, silk shirt, and though he still disliked it, the vest. Black leather shoes were the last thing he put on before taking a look in the mirror and arranging his hair while trying to ignore the vest. He sighed - the thing was so... _glittery _- and went back downstairs, ten minutes before opening.

**Tifa: **

Barret started letting in folks right on time. Seven o'clock. Many of the regulars "ooh"ed and "ahhh"ed at the new décor, but quickly took their familiar places from before, several hailing Vincent familiarly. Cid, Shera, Yuffie and Nanaki took a table close to the bar and window, the better to see everything and converse with friends. Marlene and Denzel, flatteringly allowed downstairs after bedtime just this _once_, darted here and there until firmly reprimanded by Barret, having almost tripped over his daughter. They cowed into submission, but scampered off just the same. No one really minded the children, though.

Dezra, Trisha and Melody bustled about, taking orders and serving drinks. Within half an hour, the place was comfortably full, although not packed. Which wasn't to be expected this early. But most of the available tables were getting nicely filled and the bar never wanted for customers. Chris, although new and a bit hesitant, didn't shy away from his duties, although he gave his enigmatic teacher a usual wide berth, unnerved by the man's silences.

Upstairs, Tifa swore as she rummaged through her new expansive closet. She couldn't find any hose, damnit! Stomping a foot, she nearly cried when she noticed the time. She was late! The bar was already open and she wasn't downstairs to greet her guests!

Muttering irritated invective, she hurried through the rest of her ablutions, nearly falling on her nose after buckling her shoes improperly. Taking a deep breath, Tifa sat down on the bed and forced herself to calm down.

"Just calm, Tifa, that's it, you can do it," she repeated to herself. She adjusted her shoes and _carefully_ walked to the bathroom, straightening her lovely red dress. She'd just have to forego the damned hose. She twisted her damp hair into a disheveled mass atop her head, letting a few artful strands frame her face. After applying just the barest hint of makeup, which consisted of dark eye shadow and liner with just a touch of rosy lip gloss, she slipped in her pearl earrings and took the single strand of pearls from her mother's jewelry box. The necklace ringed her throat and she vaguely recalled her mother wearing it a long time ago. Looking at herself in the mirror, she felt a bit of trepidation.

She didn't _usually_ go to this much trouble, but she firmly believed the occasion warranted it. A new start, a new life. Tifa gave herself a tentative smile and a heartfelt thumbs up. She could _do_ this. She _could_. And she thought she looked nice. All she had to do was not break her ankle or fall on her face. Tifa smoothed the dress one more time, took a deep breath and headed downstairs, nervousness rising at hearing the bustle belowstairs.

**Vincent:**

It was no surprise that there were a few people lined up outside when Barret opened the doors. Not surprising, but still strange. They would need every inch of space the new building had to offer and then some, by ten o'clock. He was glad. Tifa was going to love this new establishment. Speaking of...

He looked around, not seeing her anywhere. Was she still getting dressed? She didn't normally take that long. _It _is_ a special occasion_, he thought. She probably just wanted to look nicer than usual.

It completely slipped his mind what she had mentioned weeks ago that she might wear. He was too busy serving drinks and training the new guy. Thankfully, the kid knew all the most basic mixes already, and stayed out of Vincent's general vicinity until he got an order he didn't know how to make. Then, Vincent would simply set all the right bottles on the counter, tell the young man to pour this or that, stop, pick up another, and the process would repeat until it was done. Easy enough and it involved minimal talking. Vincent did chat here and there with the regulars, and once again politely refused a few phone numbers, from three women and - disturbingly enough - one man. He searched the room again and still, there was no sign of Tifa.

As he was pouring another drink, all the bustle in the room suddenly quieted and he look to the door... and _everything_ stopped. At the front entrance, Barret let his jaw hang slack, dark eyes a little wide. Their comrades at the table ceased chattering and stared, and Cid's cigarette fell from his mouth. He had just enough presence of mind to pick it off his shirt before it did any damage.

Tifa wore that little blood-red dress that she'd bought in Costa del Sol, the one that hugged her every curve until the skirt fell in uneven drapes that barely covered enough to be called decent. The stilettos made her legs look impossibly longer and her hair looked sensuously _perfect_. Yuffie wolf whistled, and that set off several other calls of the same.

The noise of conversation picked up again. Vincent still stared. He was vaguely aware of his eyes getting dry, but he'd met her eyes and held that gaze with intent. He only broke away when Chris approached him, "Um... Vincent?"

Vincent hummed distractedly and glanced at the young man, who pointed to the now overflowing glass. "Oh," was all Vincent could say, inwardly cursing as he set the bottle aside and grabbed a towel to mop the up mess. Chris glanced from the hostess to the bartender, and walked back to his end of the bar, grinning.

_Damn_ that little red dress…

**Tifa: **

The silence from the floor made Tifa pause and, for a fleeting moment, the frantic idea of running back upstairs where it was _safe_ assailed her, but she smiled and kept going until she reached the bar.

She was acutely aware of _every_ eye in the place fixed on her and she forced herself to nod, smile brighter and say, "Welcome to _Seventh Heaven_. We hope you enjoy your visit and take a bit with you."

Tifa flushed prettily at the whistles and good-natured calls from several of the patrons and laughed outright at a wry comment one man gave her. "So enjoy your night," she said to the room and the music started again and the waitresses went back to serving as Tifa stepped behind the bar, catching and holding an arresting vermillion gaze. Her brow furrowed as she noticed Vincent was holding a wet rag, seeming not to realize he was wringing it out on the floor. She shook her head a bit and chuckled.

Tifa reached out and took it from him, placing it on a rack to dry. She eyed him with approval, saying with a smile, "You look good, Vincent. I _really_ like that uniform." She took a breath and glanced over the floor, asking, "How's business tonight? I see there's nearly a full house."

Exultation bubbled over and she impulsively hugged him, planting a discreet but firm kiss on his cheek. Stepping back, she flashed him a grin and sashayed onward, greeting familiar patrons and playing the perfect hostess to the hilt.

**Vincent:**

_She_ really_ shouldn't go around hugging people in that dress_, he thought. Not with how it felt as if she wore almost nothing. Well, he supposed that if she were to hug anyone, he was quite content with it being him rather than any other male. He mumbled, "Fine..." to her question just before she moved on to greet and talk to others. He didn't even absorb the comment about the outfit. It didn't really matter at the moment.

After another long minute of staring at her, he tore his eyes away and hurriedly got back to work, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on bottles, glasses and sometimes patrons. He was cleaning up the alcohol that he'd wrung onto the floor when the low, cultured voice of a certain feline cut into his thoughts.

"So, have you told her yet?"

Vincent blinked and looked up to see Nanaki sitting at the end of the bar, behind the counter so as not to scare anyone or get in the way of the customers. Feigning ignorance seemed to be the best route.

"Told her what?"

One half of the large cat's long teeth showed in a smirk. "How you feel. Have you told her?" he repeated.

_Was it that obvious?_ Vincent eyed the feline, even as he stood and resumed picking up empty glasses or refilling them when asked. "How do you know what I do and don't feel?" Vincent counter-asked.

Red grinned. "Well, whether or not your mind knows it, you have a - how do I put it? You have a 'thing' for her, I believe. Put simply, your scent changes to one attempting to court and mate when you are around her."

Vincent's face felt a little warm at how bluntly the cat made the statement. "Hn. Well..." His cheeks tinted just barely as he asked, "What about _her_ scent?"

Nanaki curled up in an empty space under the bar, "Oh, I take it you haven't talked to her then."

The bartender frowned. "You're awfully nosy tonight."

Another toothy grin, then, "I'm nosy all the time. It's how one learns. You humans are confusing, all ready to mate and yet you beat around the bush. It's a good thing your females don't have such limited heat cycles."

_Well,_ Cid_ might disagree_, Vincent thought, but said to Nanaki, "We have to be picky. It's what separates us from animals."

Red flattened his ears slightly in mock offense, and Vincent added, "Other than you, Red. You I count as more intelligent than most homosapiens."

The ears perked again and Nanaki crossed his front paws. "Thank you, Vincent. Likewise. But you should still tell her."

This was ignored as Vincent went about work as usual and the night wore on. The band came on at eight and the dance floor filled as more people came in, many of which Vincent had never seen before. He saw Tifa now and then, and had to avert his eyes most times to concentrate. She'd outdone herself this time, and he hoped she knew it.

**Tifa: **

Tifa patted Red's head fondly as he moved past her to settle behind the bar and she continued moving amid her guests, laughing and talking with the patrons. Cid and Barret joined her and the troupe drank and talked for a while, until a cleared throat behind her made Tifa turn. A tall young man stood there, smiling at her.

"Hello, Miss Lockheart," he said, inclining his head. "My name's Rich Morrison and I'd be grateful if you'd dance with me."

Barret winked at Cid and they both grinned as Tifa flushed, a bit touched and flustered. She looked back to the two men and Barret gave her a grin and nodded his head, saying, "Go on, Tif. Have a bit of fun yerself."

She smiled at him and turned back to Morrison. "I'd love to," she answered, taking his offered arm.

He led her to the dance floor as a new slow song started. "I've been coming here for a while before you remodeled," he explained as they moved around the floor. "It's a great place," he complimented. His blue eyes were open and earnest. "Never thought I'd get a dance with the lovely hostess and heroine, though," he admitted with a sheepish grin.

Tifa smiled. "Thank you. Although I'm not so sure about the heroine part. We just did what we had to."

Talk drifted into nonsensical niceties as they danced. Tifa had to admit it was nice. Morrison was good-looking and polite and she really appreciated that. Although she wondered if he was dancing with the _dress_, or with _her_.

**Vincent:**

Vincent didn't miss the newest pair on the dance floor. Tiny talons of jealousy poked at his heart and he felt the urge walk over and cut right into Mr. Morrison's dance. Yet he had sense, and manners, and a job to do, the latter being the hardest of the three to ignore. Orders for drinks were coming in constantly from the tables and those at the bar were making a night of it as well.

Even while working, his eyes had a hard time leaving her. They were making small-talk, or something along those lines, and Vincent couldn't help wishing she were dancing with him, instead. The song ended and someone else asked for a dance and Vincent watched the same thing all over again, and a third time. After that she declined all others in favor of taking a break to have a drink with her friends.

He sent her a Lazy Screw via Dezra and gave her a small, raised-brow smirk when she took it and chanced to meet his gaze. The moment lasted long enough for Red to notice and rumble a soft purr, then Vincent quickly looked down and went back to work.

By ten, as Vincent predicted, Barret had to start holding people up at the door until other patrons left. The band played until just past two o'clock in the A.M, and the bar didn't close until three-thirty when the party-atmosphere wore down and the staff were about to drop in exhaustion. Last Call was made, and half an hour later, the last few customers stumbled out the door, partially assisted by the elected bouncer when some could barely tell up from down.

Overall, a successful night. More than that, it was a new _beginning._ Not only for _Heaven_, or Tifa, but everyone seemed to shed some sort of heaviness that none had known they were carrying. For the first time since Cloud's death... things began to feel _right_ again.

**Tifa: **

The night was _good_. Tifa was nowhere near tired, adrenaline had long since taken over and kept her moving steadily, and it was a genuine happy smile that lighted her face as she bid good night to the last few patrons. She didn't need to look at the numbers to know that the evening had been a _huge_ success. Although she planned to do so, in any case.

But, there were chores to be done, and her employees were, despite their obvious tiredness, bustling about to ensure everything was in place and ready for the next night's business. So, pausing to slip off her shoes and work barefooted, Tifa joined in, clearing tables and ushering dishes to the kitchen to be washed and put away.

Her house guests had long since retired for the night, save for Barret, who yawningly informed her he was going to do just that. She grinned, hugged and thanked him, shooing the tired man upstairs. She moved quickly, skirt swishing with her graceful movements as she flitted here and there, taking as much off Dezra and the other girls as she could, to alleviate their work load.

Finally getting the tables done, Tifa sent them to finish in the kitchen with Rolfe and she headed behind the bar, weaving between Chris and Vincent. Chris, still wiping glasses, grinned at her, which she returned with a chuckle.

"Interesting night, hm? Not bad, for a first time."

The young man nodded. "Yeah. Is it always this hectic?"

Tifa's head tilted and a shoulder shrugged. "Sometimes. But don't worry. Pretty soon, you'll be slinging drinks just as well as Vincent does." She bumped said bartender's hip with her own, as he was standing behind her, counting out change from the cash box, and tossed the other a giggle.

"He'll never admit it, but he's by far the best bartender on the Planet. Of course, _he_ doesn't think so." She smirked a bit to Chris. "Well, _I_ say so, and that's really all that matters."

They chuckled and Chris shook his head and finished his glasses, hanging the last on the overhead rack. "Anything else, Ms. Tifa?" he inquired.

Her brow furrowed in thought and she replied, "If you'll give them a hand in the kitchen, I'd appreciate it. When the last dishes are done, you guys can call it a night. You've all earned it."

**Vincent:**

With a "thank you" to the hostess, and a nod to Vincent - who was still counting money - Chris did just that. Fifteen minutes later, all employees were done and Vincent counted the last gil with a low whistle. _Wow_. Tonight had been more than double their best night in the past.

Pulling the nightly ledger from under the counter, he wrote the total down and slid the book toward Tifa. Like her, the constant stream of customers combined with the liveliness of the place kept him from being sleepy, and he was only starting to notice the mild cramps in his knees from standing the whole time.

As she looked at the total, Vincent poured himself his first drink of the night. A fine red wine, one of many sample bottles shipped to them for the restaurant that was not yet open. They hadn't had the opportunity to try any of them, and he thought that tonight was appropriate. He poured a glass for her and extended it to her with a small grin at her reaction to the nights' earnings.

"I think the new place just might be a hit," he said dryly.

**Tifa: **

After locking the door behind her associates, Tifa returned to the bar and hopped up on it, swinging her legs over the other side, watching Vincent methodically count and scribble. When done, she picked up the ledger he slid to her and her eyes widened at the final totals. Breath caught in her throat as those brown eyes lifted, she more than a bit surprised.

"…Vincent," she said breathlessly, "…blessed _Planet_, all _this_, for just one _night_?" She automatically took the proffered glass and returned his grin. "Yeah, I think so, too. Imagine when we get it _finished_!"

They clinked glasses and Tifa took a hearty sip of the exquisite wine, relishing the sweetness on her tongue. Suppressing the urge to bounce wildly, she did the next best thing. Setting the crystal down, she reached over and caught Vincent with both arms, enfolding him in a massive hug, complete with girlish squeal.

"This is _so_ great!" she gushed enthusiastically, planting a firm _smack_ to his cheek and squeezing him again. "Thankyouthankyou_thankyou_, Vincent!"

**Vincent:**

As she almost squeezed the life out of him, Vincent returned her hug with less crushing enthusiasm. His version of the suffocating hug was a slightly firm embrace accompanied by a pat on the back, against the bare skin between her shoulders.

Though her squeal nearly shattered his brain, he managed to chuckle, "I realize that you think I'm the best bartender, and that I've helped here and there, but this is _your_ dream, Tifa. You made it happen. The rest of us just helped along the way. You should be proud of this as your accomplishment."

He was proud of her. She'd been dreaming of it for so long, and even after being devastated as she was months ago, she'd had the focus and drive to see her dream become reality. True, it wouldn't have happened as soon without the healthy dose of financial backing she received, but it still would have happened, he knew.

"I'm glad it was such a big success. But I can't say I'm that surprised." He smiled as he pulled back. "I trust you had fun tonight?"

**Tifa: **

Tifa released Vincent and sat back, automatically straightening the collar of his shirt over the vest. Her cheeks flushed from the warm words and her head tilted girlishly.

"I am," she said quietly. "I'm thrilled more than I can say, to see this place now." A slight melancholy altered her features. "I wish Cloud could have seen it," she whispered. But her shoulders straightened and she went on, a bit firmer, "Well, I'm sure he'll know somehow. That we're okay. Things are gonna be okay, Vincent."

Her heels drummed against the counter as she nodded. "Much fun, actually. I think tonight even rivals your horrible swimming lesson," she twinkled at him. "Don't you think so?"

**Vincent:**

She just _had_ to bring that up, didn't she? His smile disappeared in a flat look, "Are you referring to me being unable to catch you, or the incident with the jellyfish? Either way, I _much_ prefer tonight."

He took another sip of the wine and leaned on the counter next to her. Eyes of the same color as his drink scanned the room, taking in all the differences and super-imposing the old over the new, and back again. It was the same, but wasn't. He raised his glass slightly, "To new beginnings."

After she echoed him and their glasses clinked together once more, he finished his and let his gaze drift down. There was something he'd wanted to do all night, and now that everyone else was gone, Valentine finally had a chance to mention it.

"You know, since you've had so many laughs at my expense... I believe you owe me something," he said in a low, matter-of-fact tone.

**Tifa: **

Tifa grinned. "Either or," she answered with a small smirk. But she echoed his toast with fervor, draining her glass afterwards. That really was delicious wine, she mused, licking her lips clean of the remaining droplets. She put down her glass and turned to Vincent, one eyebrow arched in query.

"Oh? Don't I pay you enough, Vincent?" she teased. "Or what else did you have in mind?" She _tried_ to keep her tone light and teasing but thought she failed miserably and mentally slapped herself.

**Vincent:**

"You _were_ paying me enough, before this vest came into the picture," he joked in a serious tone, then shook his head slightly, tossing the wild bangs that always hid part of his face. "But I had something else in mind."

Setting his empty glass aside, he extended his right hand toward her, inclining his head slightly as he asked, "Would you dance with me?" True that it was late, and everyone was asleep, but he wasn't that tired and she didn't seem to be either. Vincent knew he might be causing himself more frustration, _especially_ given the dress she wore, but tonight was special and deserved to be marked as such.

**Tifa: **

"Oh, shush," she scolded lightly, swatting his arm. "I think it looks good on you. So quit fretting about it." Tifa blinked to his invitation then smiled.

"Of course I will, Vincent. Why do you even have to ask?" She took his hand and hopped down, smoothing her skirt as she alighted on the floor. Foregoing her shoes, she went with him to the dance floor, pausing to snatch a handful of gil from the cash box. She gave the coins to him and indicated the juke box. "Play something good," she instructed, standing in the middle of the floor, waiting. Tifa stretched, arms lifting over her head as her spine cracked deliciously. "Ah, better."

She grinned and twirled in a circle. "Hurry up, Vincent."

**Vincent:**

He _would_ have hurried if her dress didn't ride so high when she stretched. Shaken back to the task at hand, Vincent put the coins in and scanned the titles, then selected three songs. Then as the first began to play, he walked quickly to where she stood and wasted no time pulling her close and into position. The beat was slightly quicker than what they'd danced to before, but Vincent waited to see if she would pick up on the style, mainly in the movements of her hips.

"Have you ever taken anything besides ballet?" he asked, relishing the softness of her dress and the warmth beneath it, and trying to ignore it at the same time.

**Tifa: **

Tifa's lips slanted in a grin as Vincent returned and she moved willingly into his embrace. The music floated from the speakers, the bass guitar throbbing low and sultry in the background. "Hmm, not _officially_," she replied, letting her body slowly fall into the music. "This is _such_ a good song, too."

An eyebrow arched as she moved against him. "But I'm not _totally_ ignorant of how to do it, Vincent," she chuckled, draping arms around his neck. "I _am_ a martial artist, you know. I know how to move." With that, she showed him, swaying against him in perfect rhythm to the sensuous music. She licked her lips. "Don't you think so?"

**Vincent:**

He did indeed. Vincent's hands moved from her waist to her hips, feeling her every move and complimenting it in his own movement. He didn't lead so much as match her, for in songs like this, the female body was more greatly appreciated. Even so, a little of the sensual nature of the song leaked into the rhythm, and there were times when he did take the lead to twirl her briefly, only to bring her flush against him again to resume the suggestive rhythm set by such a simple bass line.

"I see," he said in a low tone, the slightest smirk playing on his lips as red eyes stared down at her. "I knew you danced well... but I'm a little glad to say I've never seen you dance quite like this." Flirting was a dangerous thing between them... but so very inevitable, especially when they were alone.

**Tifa: **

Tingles skittered over Tifa as they moved, the bloody fabric sliding against her flesh in teasing whispers. That coupled with the silk of Vincent's shirt, made warm from the heat of his body, against her bare skin was a dangerous combination to her nerves. She followed his guiding hands easily, even eagerly. Catching her breath as he pulled her back from a sultry twirl, Tifa returned his smirk with one of her own.

"Well, I wouldn't dance this way with anyone else, Vincent." Of its own volition, a bare knee slipped fractionally between his as they moved together. "That just wouldn't be right, now would it?" she asked huskily, staring up at him. Arms snaked around his waist, slender hands resting against his hips before returning and sliding palms up his chest, fingers managing to catch and release the topmost buttons on his shirt. Tifa curled hands over Vincent's shoulders, unobtrusively sneaking digits beneath the black silk to rest against warm bare skin. The music flowed over her, resolutely unbarring the doors on what good sense she still possessed.

**Vincent:**

The teasing that started in her tone advanced with the knee that insinuated itself _ever_ so slightly between his, and was further compounded by her exploration beneath his shirt. One brow rose as he moved his right hand from her hip to her lower back, low enough to feel the beginning of the outward curve of her buttocks. He resisted the urge to bite the inside of his lip in favor of speaking.

"It wouldn't be right at all," he confirmed, pulling her to press her hips flat against his for a moment. He thanked all the _Planet_ for extraordinary self control, and guided her away in another twirl. This time, instead of bringing her back to face him, he brought her close with her back to his chest as his hands returned to her hips and they matched movements exactly. His eyes drifted closed while his head dipped to briefly nuzzle the fine hairs behind her ear.

This wasn't right, he tried to tell himself. That sane and responsible part of his mind was promptly told to go to hell. As the bluesy guitar solo ended, his whisper came out with a soft roughness, "Others might get the wrong impression from a dance like this..."

**Tifa: **

Tifa smirked then softly gasped as Vincent pulled them more firmly together, bodies flush against the other. Sinewy muscle against supple softness. She had little time to _enjoy_ it before he spun her outward again and pulled her back again, her back to his front. Her head fell back and eyes closed as he swayed them, rocking together in exquisitely perfect rhythm.

Tifa's right hand fell to cover his, fingernails delicately scratching his skin. Her left hand rose and twined fingers in thick black hair, guiding his head down to her exposed throat. She moaned softly as he nuzzled her, the exhalation of breath against tender skin sending shivers down her spine. Her fingers left that glorious hair, trailing tips down his slightly roughened cheek and jaw, pad of her thumb sliding just beneath his lower lip. Tifa's back arched, pressing into him a bit more, a bit harder.

When she answered, the breathlessness in her voice wasn't entirely from the exertion. "…for the life of me, I can't imagine why…"

**Vincent:**

He caught her thumb between his teeth, eyes opening just long enough to catch the downward view of her body... or actually, her breasts, for they overshadowed all else from this vantage. With a husky sigh his eyes closed again and his head lowered to press warm lips against the curve where her shoulder and neck met.

Vincent's hands tightened on her hips as she arched against him, and his right slid to the front of her body, settled firmly just below her navel, his thumb brushing over the indention through the thin fabric of that scandalous dress. She was _damn_ lucky that he was a _gentleman_, Vincent inwardly mused. "I can," Vincent breathed into Tifa's ear before dragging brief, caressing kisses back down her neck to her shoulder before nuzzling in her hair again, so as not to be _too_ presumptuous.

**Tifa: **

"So? It's none of…mhn…their business…anyway," Tifa managed to reply, most of her rational mind shutting down thanks to the brief, warm touches of smooth lips to bare skin. A throaty moan escaped her parted lips, all attention focused on that right hand and his mouth, playing such havoc on her body. Gaia, was she really this wanton? Or had she just ceased to pretend?

The musings slipped from her mind at the change of music, this song a teasingly, almost _naughty_ confection of bells and synthesizers. Tifa grinned; she knew this one. As the main melody began, she slipped from Vincent's hold and sashayed a few steps away, turning to him and sliding hands over her abdomen and upwards, fingers brushing the sides of her breasts and slipping over her shoulders to snare at the nape of her neck, _daring_ him to follow her.

A sassy grin curved her lips as she stepped farther away with every sway of her hips, the blood red dress swirling provocatively with her simplest movement. She was playing with fire but didn't care. Her own body was heating dangerously, testament to the want burning just beneath the surface.

**Vincent:**

The daring lyrics of the song matched her provocative moves perfectly, and for a long moment he only watched the display, his eyes following her with unmasked intent, softly smoldering. The attraction they had ignored for weeks while living with Cid and Shera was back with a vengeance, and had apparently brought friends in the forms of lust and inhibition. A few graceful strides in step with the sultry song as breathy vocals rose in an almost sexual tone to the backdrop of intermittent heavy guitar, he caught up to her, placed his hands firmly on her sides and slid them upward, lessening the pressure as he followed the trail her hands had taken a moment ago.

Thumbs brushed the sides of her breasts and Vincent had to bite his lower lip at the ache that caused in his belly and lower. He continued up to her shoulders, then around to her back and downward. Again they moved in unison as the chorus began again, this time dipping her while running his right hand down her thigh to bring it up. Thusly hooked, the inside of her thigh pressed to his hip, and fingertips chanced to run feather-light down to her calf and all the way back up to her thigh, stopping just beyond where the short dress began. Crimson eyes burned into darkest brown as he bent over her for a time.

"No, it isn't," he breathed, so close to her lips, "It's yours... and mine." He pulled back then, twirled her again and brought her back to their original position.

**Tifa: **

Tifa let herself be captured; truly she was a willing prisoner. Her body involuntarily arched to his hands as they traced the innocently sinful path her own had taken, the hesitant touches making things low in her stomach churn as her chest tightened. Vincent pulled her closer and Tifa eagerly complied, shivering to those hands sliding down her flesh. They guided her so skillfully as she leaned back over his arm, knee lifting at the gentle insistence, calf rubbing against the slightly rough material of his slacks. Hands slid over broad shoulders and arms wound around his neck as he bent over her, breathing words against her parted lips.

Tifa's lazy moan drifted between them and he spun her once again, resettling them firmly against the other afterwards. The music changed again, this song sultry and seductive, smooth sounds washing the dance floor in warm summer heat. Tifa's arms draped around Vincent's waist as they drifted on the music, her fingers covertly easing the shirt from the waist of his slacks to seek warm wanting skin beneath it, nails running along the belt loops just as her lips came to rest against the curve of his throat, placing soft warm kisses along the damp skin.

Her exploration followed the line of his collar to the indentation of his collar bone and she couldn't stop her tongue from swirling in the niche then continuing on its unhurried way, her soft throaty mewls following every now and again coupled with her tactile scrutiny. But she paused and lifted her head, staring up at him through glassy eyes.

"So, what's the problem? _I_ don't see one…"

**Vincent:**

The song was beautiful in a sinful way, tragically wanting. Eyes closed at the forgotten feeling of lips and tongue playing along his throat and Vincent suppressed a sound of desire that rumbled in his chest. Muscles rippled slightly beneath sweat-damp skin as her fingers slid softer than the silk of his shirt against bare flesh. With her words returned his reasons for stopping the last time. He breathed a sigh that hinted of want and whispered, "The problem lies not in the game."

They swayed lazily and he dipped her as before, this time with his hand traveling far up the back of her thigh as his nose, then his lips brushed beneath her chin. She smelled lush, sweet and exotic, enticing him to taste her skin with a slow, long swipe of his tongue. He _knew_ he shouldn't do these things, not while saying, "Do you recall what I said last time?"

He pulled back enough to look into her eyes, the lust dimming enough for a deeper need to show through in blood red. He kept that stare as he brought her back up slowly, nose touching nose.

**Tifa: **

Her arms tightened imperceptibly around him as Vincent dipped her again, Tifa's head falling back with the movement. Again her knee lifted, this time high to his waist, long bare leg slipping around his hip. His fingers left hot trails over her skin; her hips lifted in acceptance to his touch. Tifa shivered and softly jerked as his tongue laved her throat, her hands rising to sink deep into thick ebon hair, nails sliding over the nape of his neck.

At his question, memory somehow returned and the ramifications of their _last_ encounter of this nature weaseled into her mind, making her dazedly blink. Their eyes met and he lifted her, they flush against the other, hard planes to soft curves. Tifa remembered to breathe somewhere along the way. She nuzzled his nose, unable to help herself and whispered, "Yes. Of course I do."

Soft brown eyes drifted half-closed as her head tilted slightly, the better to press soft small kisses against the corners of Vincent's lovely mouth, accentuated by small wet flicks of her tongue. "How could I possibly forget?"

A husky sigh breathed against his skin as her mouth traveled along his jaw to his ear, teeth sharply nipping the sensitive flesh, to be immediately soothed with loving strokes of lips and tongue. Hesitant shy hands, made bold by the surety of desire and _need_, slipped from his shoulders, trailed fingertips down his lean chest and paused at the buckled belt before gently tracing one long finger down the zipper of those black slacks.

Tifa took a ragged breath, held it for a moment, then breathed into his ear, directly into his brain, "…come upstairs with me, Vincent." A small moue of want whimpered from her. "I need you so much…"

**Vincent:**

_Oh wicked,_ wicked _girl_. Her lips drew soft sighs from him, and he gasped as her finger trailed down the front of his slacks. Slacks that despite his best efforts to think of _anything_ else, were suddenly uncomfortably tight. Eyes closed tightly as he took a breath, but could not be calmed. Her whisper coiled an ache within him that spread outward from his chest and settled lower than he would have liked.

Forced concentration gave him enough sense not to carry her directly upstairs and do what they both desired. He had a question first. He _needed_ to know. Vincent's head turned and jet black bangs tickled Tifa's face as his teeth grazed that tender skin just below her ear, soothed by his tongue on his way. Lips enclosed the lobe, carefully worrying at the pearl earring before he pulled back to look into her eyes. Half-lidded scarlet bore into her very soul as his right hand slid down her back to cup half of the perfect curve of her rump, squeezing gently and pressing her against the firmness in his pants as his lips caressed hers with every lust-laced word.

"Will you _need_ me tomorrow? The next day? Do you _really_ want me, Tifa?"

_Do you love me?_ He couldn't bring himself to ask aloud. She was causing him nearly painful want, but Vincent maintained just a shred of coherent thought, and that shred was all he needed to remind himself of past pains brought on by uncontrolled desires.

**Tifa: **

Brown eyes drifted closed at the tender caresses of long black hair across her brow but Tifa trembled and moaned as Vincent's devilish mouth played sinful havoc upon sensitized flesh. Her skin cooled as he pulled away and she met his gaze steadily, although her stare was drowsy, passion laced and wanting. She couldn't help a throaty purr of desire as his right hand gripped her, lifting her firmly against him and her hips rolled naturally, she heady in the knowledge of what she was doing to him. It was so sinful…yet so innocently _right_ at the same time.

Tifa whimpered against his mouth, gasping tiny breaths against his lips as he panted his questions. She mewled, wanting to wrap both legs around his waist and surrender unconditionally, but she had to reassure him first.

Six weeks ago, in Costa del Sol, she hadn't been sure, been afraid to reach out again. But now, in this new place, with new memories to make, she firmly believed she wanted nothing else but this. But Vincent. She couldn't imagine existing without him now. He was the solid dependable soul she'd so desperately needed, but had been unable to find. Should he leave her, she would crumble and wither like a rose caught in the desert. One man had left her, a man she'd once loved. Tifa couldn't bear that again.

Her voice trembled as she answered, "…I need you _forever_, Vincent. I want you to love me." A sob hitched in her throat and she spoke against his lips, her own trembling. "I want you always…_please_…"

_To be continued…_


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's notes: READ THE WARNING IN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN! That's all I'm going to say about the following chapter. Be warned, be warned, be warned. I can_not_ say that enough!**

**Disclaimer: We don't own it, we just abuse it, only not. P**

_**Chapter Nineteen: **_

**Vincent: **

_That_ was all he needed, all he wanted to hear. Suddenly, Tifa found herself lifted fully off the floor with Vincent's hands joining under her thighs to support her and keep her firmly against him as his lips crushed hers in a bruising, desperate kiss. His tongue pushed between her lips to taste what he'd been trying so hard not to think about, but had missed so badly. Soft muscles dueled passionately before he beckoned her, _teased_ her to do the same. His eyes were closed as he walked them across the room, finding his way on memory and keeping them upright with unnatural grace. His breath came ragged, and his clothes felt so restricting, for the first time in a long, long time.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he ascended quickly and a moment later, fumbled his way through her bedroom door. Only as he kicked it shut and leaned against it did he let her slide back down his body, tearing a groan from him. He pulled his mouth from hers to gasp for much needed air.

"Always..." he echoed while panting. "Forever?" He pulled her close again as he backed her slowly towards the bed. "Every night..." Another hungry, deep kiss. "Every day." His teeth dragged down her chin and he nuzzled to lean her head back so he could nip and lick at her throat again. "If that's what you want... it's yours."

_And you are mine_. The thought alone was enough to make him groan her name softly.

**Tifa: **

_Yes_. No less eager, Tifa gave in to her desire and wrapped both legs around his waist as Vincent lifted her and she met his mouth willingly, lips parted and hungry for his kiss. A raw moan ripped from her throat at his tongue's violent intrusion of her mouth, but hers met it with an impassioned fervor she didn't know she possessed. Wet heat writhed between their locked mouths and Tifa all but yanked the leather queue from Vincent's hair, spilling that glorious mane over his shoulders and down his back, her starving hands burying themselves in the midnight mass. Dimly she realized they were moving, but she didn't care. It surprised her a bit to realize he could have lain her atop the bar and she wouldn't have minded in the slightest.

But she found them ensconced in her bedroom as he slowly and reluctantly relinquished his grip, letting her feet drift to the floor. Praise Gaia he lifted his head or she might have fainted from asphyxiation but their lips and tongues were having a pushing, seeking and sliding contest. Tifa was panting no less than Vincent and halfway heard his lusty words; she was too busy undoing the buttons on that vest and shoving it from his shoulders. It hit the floor unnoticed and frantic inexperienced fingers began on his shirt buttons, stopping only as he captured her mouth again for another deep probing kiss that had her moaning and pressing firmly against him, unconsciously rubbing full breasts against his half-bared chest, the material of her dress soft and pliant.

Tifa shivered in passionate delight at the rough assault of teeth and _finally_ got the damned shirt open as he laved her throat. She felt the back of her knees hit the bed and latched on to him again, husky moans accentuating her fevered acquiescence.

"Always…" Hands slid around his body, beneath the shirt. "Mine, Vincent…" She hissed his name before her teeth scraped and nipped behind his ear, then licked the stings away. _I love you…_she stopped herself from saying. _Not yet_, the voice whispered, _not just yet_.

**Vincent: **

Vincent's hands left her body only to shrug out of his shirt. The awful vest was gone and he was glad for more reasons than one, and now he was left only in his pants and shoes, the latter of which were pushed off, one then the other, as he leaned on the bed over her on hands and knees. Black hair spilled over her as he bent to lave his tongue along her neck and down her shoulder, while his left hand pulled loose the fastenings that held her own hair in place. Part of it was still damp from being twisted up, and to his delight the fresh scent of her shampoo wafted from the freed tresses. Their lips met in fervor again as that same hand fumbled to release the tiny hook that held the dress behind her neck.

"Yes, yours..." he echoed in a low moan. He nipped her lips, gently suckling as he held them one at a time between his teeth. He admired his handiwork as he pulled back, regaining a little air as he stared at her reddened lips, wet from their kiss and parted in the most inviting way. His stare fixed on her eyes, glazed with passion, as his hand tugged the top of her dress down with agonizing slowness. He was _ever_ so thankful he'd not worn the gauntlet for tonight, only the glove.

Only when her breasts were fully bare did he turn his gaze to them. Breath hissed between his teeth and his stare lingered on the perfection of each, large yet perfectly in proportion with the rest of her body. Hot breath washed over them in a sigh as he looked into her eyes again, his glare accusing her of holding so much more power over him than any woman should be entitled to. He couldn't recall _ever_ wanting anything this badly, not even Lucrecia, who now seemed such a far, distant memory.

In a deliberately unhurried pace, his face lowered even as he kept his eyes on hers, 'til at last his eyes closed as he first nuzzled, then tenderly kissed the softness of her right breast, tongue running in light, lazy flicks on the sensitive underside. He growled low against the pliant flesh... she was making him _so_ painfully aroused.

"And you, Tifa?" he breathed as his tongue flicked once over a taut nipple, "_Whose_ are _you_?"

**Tifa: **

Tifa all but toppled backwards onto the mattress as Vincent paused to kick off his shoes. She giggled but it died in her throat as he slithered over her, pushing her backwards to lie against the soft coverlet. A whimper escaped as he licked her, causing gooseflesh to ripple from the hot caress. She felt him remove the pins in her hair and rose to meet his mouth, panting for breath as he nipped and suckled at her lips. She licked and nuzzled back, tingles rippling through her as their tongues chanced to touch. _Gaia_, but she _loved_ sloppy kissing.

She softly whined in soft protest as he lifted his head but nearly froze as Vincent gently drew down her dress. She hadn't even felt him undo it. Wide eyes met his but she saw only gentleness tempered with wanting desire reflected in the scarlet depths. She felt the cooler air hit her skin and she shivered as those eyes lowered, then met hers again and she couldn't help but smirk at the frustration laced in Vincent's countenance. Tifa kept her slight grin even as his head lowered but she hissed in a breath and her eyes closed as smooth silken lips touched suddenly aching flesh. Fingers curled in the covers to keep from snatching at him. Which lasted about ten seconds before both hands found their way into long black hair, holding his head against her chest as her body arched, offering more. Her knees rubbed together then parted as one long bare leg slithered around his thigh, pulling him against her and flexing rhythmically.

Tifa moaned as her body tightened, nipples almost painfully hard. Taut stomach muscles contracted, rolling her body against his as she squirmed beneath him. It took her a minute to register he'd said something. Brown eyes blinked.

"…mmnnn, _yours_, Vincent," she panted softly. "…_only_ yours…"

**Vincent: **

The corners of his busy lips turned upward even as they enfolded the delicate nub and teased with teeth and tongue. Her left breast was not neglected, for his right hand cupped and gently kneaded the flesh, rolling the nipple between thumb and forefinger. As her body insisted, he leaned into the juncture of her thighs, grinding imperceptibly against her. Dear _Planet_, he could_ feel_ the heat that radiated from her center.

The dress was pushed further down and he shuddered as he kissed his way back up her body and finally to her lips. So little separated them now... so little and yet far too much. He settled fully on top of her with a husky purr at the _feel_ of her bare breasts pressed to his chest, so full and soft against flesh that had seen _decades_ of neglect.

He rolled them over, now with her straddling him. He did this for several reasons; the first was so that he could pull her dress up over her head. It fell somewhere on the floor, and he stared at her all-but-nude body with undisguised lust, feeling over every reachable inch with tedious attention. The last reason was that he wanted to see how it would feel, having her weight press against his crotch and the hardness there. _Would_ that she relieve that ache, but all in due time.

Eyes roaming her bared flesh as deliberately as his hands, he let out a trembling whisper, "You... are _so_ beautiful." The way her hair spilled over her shoulders, not quite hiding her breasts... the way she nearly rode him with the motion of sinfully divine hips and the way she breathed and sighed and moaned all for _him_, for _his_ attention, these things told him with firm conviction that she wanted _him_, that he was _no_ substitute.

**Tifa: **

Tifa moaned a score as Vincent's hands and lips continued their sinful assault on her breasts. Long legs rose to cradle his body as he came atop her fully, thighs gripping his hips tightly. Her head spun dizzily as he pressed harder against her, peaked nipples aching from the attention and throbbing against his chest. Tifa squeaked as they shifted but rose atop him nevertheless, knees against his waist. Gaia, she felt so _wicked_, lifting her arms to help remove the now cumbersome dress from her flaming body.

For once in her life, Tifa didn't feel quite so self-conscious about herself. She'd matured early and well, and having such a form often made her even shyer around others, especially men she held an ounce of respect for or attraction to. But now, sitting astraddle Vincent Valentine, seeing the undisguised naked _longing_ in those flaming crimson orbs, she held no hesitation in arching her back as those large killing hands cupped her breasts; the feel of leather and flesh made a lusty moan purr from her throat.

Her hips began to involuntarily rock atop him, bringing the apex of her thighs into flush contact with the growing arousal beneath those black slacks. Husky pants escaped her as she gazed down at him, those eyes hooded and dark in the dim room. _She'd dreamed of this_, she realized. Him beneath her, panting and all but writhing. It made her bold.

With an arch little smile on her lips, Tifa deliberately slowed the movement of her hips, making each last to the point of pain before beginning anew. Warm palms pressed to his chest as she lowered atop him, foregoing his inviting mouth to press her lips to his chest, lazily drawing circles on the flesh with her tongue until she reached a flat male nipple and drew the nub into her mouth, teasing with tongue and teeth even as one hand drifted between their bodies to run fingertips over his groin and, emboldened by Vincent's guttural groan, cup him a bit more firmly, taunting, teasing.

**Vincent: **

Vincent chewed his bottom lip as she raked teeth and tongue over surprisingly sensitive, pale flesh. For once, no thought of self-consciousness entered Vincent's mind, even for a second. Such was the effect of her acceptance of him. Pectorals flinched in a ripple at her touch while he released a low, long and almost growling moan at her boldness. His body arched to press more firmly into her palm with barely enough breath to whisper a warning.

"Tifa... it's impolite to... _tease_ me so." Even as he said this, he retaliated by gently pinching both of her hardened nipples, barely enough to cause the slightest sting. Her hair swept over his stomach and chest as she explored, and he sucked in a deep breath, relishing the feather-light touch. Strong hands dragged from her breasts to her thighs, pulling her against him, letting her feel what she had done to him. Then his hands moved back up to hook long fingers in the thin elastic of her g-string, tugging in a manner that rubbed the sheer, red fabric over the last part of her that was hidden from him. A keen sense of smell had scented her arousal long before, now it was so overpowering that he had to struggle to keep from tearing that tiny stitch of material from her.

Bare fingers moved to the front of the waistline, dipping beneath the blood-red fabric just far enough to brush the backs of his fingers back and forth in a slow caress above her folds. He tasted blood in his mouth, and finally released the inside of his lip before he did any more damage. Both hands retreated back to her thighs, kneading along the firm muscles trapped beneath such softness while his hips rolled upward in a slow motion, mimicking an even more intimate dance. "I think we're both a little overdressed..."

**Tifa: **

Her dark head lifted and she gave him a siren's smile, softly gasping a quiet breath and arching her back a bit at his payback. "I wasn't trying to be polite, Vincent," she drawled huskily, sliding her tongue over her lower lip suggestively. "Mmm, far from it, actually."

Tifa lowered her head again and paid homage to the other nipple, exciting it to aching hardness with the same treatment as the other. But she clenched teeth on a ragged moan and hissed a breath as questing fingers caught in the silky material at her hips, squirming against his fingers. Her hips bucked of their own volition, jerking even as they met his, rising from the mattress to press against her in the wickedest of ways.

"_Vincent_," she throatily moaned, putting her hands atop his. Her body felt wild, so wanton and she didn't care. Breath panted through parted lips. "Get it off me…" she whined, wiggling out of the offending material. Kicking the garment aside, Tifa once again found Vincent's mouth and thrust her tongue between his lips, memorizing the dark wet cavern and seeking out his own slick muscle, coaxing him to play and fondle. She wiggled beside him, falling to her back, both hands feverishly fumbling with his belt buckle.

It took both of them to get it unclasped but their lips never parted. Tifa wasted little time, undoing the small button and carefully running down the zipper. Snatching a quick breath of air, she gently bit teeth into Vincent's lower lip as one slim hand slipped beneath the waistband of his pants and boxers, fingertips tentatively caressing the rigid shaft with the most innocent of touches.

**Vincent: **

He rolled onto his side to face her as she lay back against the coverlet, his kiss just as impassioned as hers. He tensed in anticipation as she worked at the buckle, then the zipper, and when her cooler hand met the heat of his length, he groaned and bit her tongue. Not hard, just so he held it prisoner between his teeth. His hips bucked slightly, half in his craving for her to grip him less innocently, and half in frustration born of still being partially clothed.

His touch on her paused while she gently rubbed and fondled, until the ache became too much and he withdrew from her to quickly slip out of the restricting garments and kick them to the floor. The cool air made goose-flesh on his thighs and shoulders, but it was a welcomed chill.

He leaned over her again, the bare tip of him resting against one of her silk-smooth thighs as he insinuated a knee between her legs to part them as his hands began their quest anew. Quickly they ran over her breasts, squeezing gently as he buried his face in the curve of her neck, suckling and biting.

From there his touch - and kiss - swept downward, over the flat plain of her belly, taking time to lave around her navel, then creeping ever lower with his eyes shining darkly as he locked another intent stare with her. Hooking both knees, he lifted each and settled her thighs over his shoulders, pausing to just _breathe_ against her while his fingertips traced tiny circles along her pelvis, always near the source of her desire, be never quite close enough. Hair blacker than night tickled her hips and the backs of her thighs but miraculously stayed out of his way as his head finally lowered and he dragged his tongue slowly down the heated lushness between her legs.

His eyes closed and threatened to roll back as overdeveloped senses took in her scent and flavor and the silky feel of such tender skin against his tongue as he pulled back for a moment. It was with an aggressive growl that he resumed without preamble, tongue digging between reddened folds to seek a deeper heat.

**Tifa: **

Tifa whimpered as Vincent pulled away from her questing hand, then sighed in complete pleasure as he returned to her, gloriously naked and wanting. She welcomed him with open arms and willingly parted her knees as his pressed against her. Her body rolled beneath his touch, rising to meet his hands and mouth. Her fingers familiarized themselves with the sculpted and defined planes of his back and shoulders, murring in protest as he worked his way down her body.

But the disgruntled sounds quickly turned to pants of heated pleasure as too-long-denied nerve endings were brought into flaming wakefulness once again. Not a few were newly discovered. Breath quickened in her throat as she watched Vincent pull her knees over his shoulders and she swore to a naughty twinkle in those crimson eyes. He teased her unmercifully, finally making her hips buck in fevered anticipation.

A strangled cry wrenched from parched lips at the first touch of that devilish tongue upon hot intimate flesh. Tifa jerked, muscles clenching and hands grasping the coverlet for want of something to clench. He allowed her a brief span of respite before returning to his appointed task and she nearly screamed, back bowing off the bed and strong thigh muscles clenching uncontrollably as breath whistled through her teeth with the white-hot pleasure that raced through her, zinging on its way to something much more monumental. Tifa panted his name as his tongue assailed her, squirming and writhing with every long rough stroke.

**Vincent: **

The sounds that tore from her throat caused him to throb with elation. His gloved hand slid over her hip and down to rub his thumb over the tiny nub of heightened pleasure where his tongue took time to lap now and then before resuming its twisting dance within her. One long, bare finger joined his tongue, penetrating farther and curling upward to rub along the slightly roughened spot. Another finger soon followed the first, the callused edges of both writhing around, enveloped in such fine, wet silk. His member ached for attention of almost _any_ kind, but was further denied. He wanted _her_ to be ready, not only in her lust but in her body as well. His tongue withdrew to worry at her clitoris as he alternated between sucking and licking, his left hand now quite busy trying to hold her firmly down.

Vermillion eyes opened to look at her again, a dark smirk written plainly within their depths. Vincent couldn't help but wonder... had she _ever_ had an orgasm before? He'd never dared to ask, but resolved that even if she had, he intended to give her _more_. His fingers worked frantically now, as he pulled his mouth away briefly to pant, "Tifa... tell me what you _want_..."

**Tifa: **

Tifa was going up in flames. They licked all along her body, searing her skin with their wicked heat. Her tongue lapped at her lips, even as her breathing remained erratic and frantic. She moaned and writhed, victim of feelings she'd never had before. She'd felt emotions _akin_ to them, but _never_ this intense, this high, this hard. Vincent was doing things to her that made her body want to explode into a thousand glittering pieces. But it wasn't finished. A whisper frothed in her ears, making her whimper. _More_, her mind chanted resolutely. The wet warmth within her constricted around the invading tongue and finger, sending a shudder rippling through her followed by a low cry. Tifa's hips bucked as Vincent stretched her, prepared her and she reflexively skimmed palms over her breasts, adding to the building fire low in her loins.

That damnable tongue played more havoc between her thighs and Tifa whimpered, a light sweat forming across gleaming skin. Inner walls rippled with muscle contractions against the thrusting digits and her legs trembled as she lifted her head to stare down at him, glazed brown eyes meeting darkened scarlet. One hand reached for him as she bucked again, nearly groaning in her want and lust. She heard his fevered question and nearly snarled in reply.

"For the love of _Gaia_, Vincent," she half moaned, half groaned, "_fuck_ me before I go insane…_please_." Even as the words left her lips, she flushed in mortification at her _bluntness_, but reckoned that, in times such as this, Cid's approach had _some_ merit.

**Vincent: **

Teeth barely restrained from clamping down on tender flesh as her seductively vulgar words drove a shudder through him. The want, need and the firm _command_ in her voice pulled him quickly back up her body, trailing hot, wet kisses up her belly before his lips were crushed to hers, still carrying her unique taste and scent. Flesh and leather gripped her thighs and spread them wide as he settled against her, grinding hard and smooth to wet and pliant. He delved into her mouth just as he had delved into her tightness, and savored each taste equally as lips and teeth nipped and caught her lips now and then. His hands left her thighs to cup her rump and pull her against him, not yet inside, but enjoying the slick friction that built between them. He had felt a bit hot before, now he felt as if he were burning just as quickly as she.

When he could take no more self-inflicted punishment, he guided one of her hands to grip his length, in order to ensure a smooth, painless entry under her care. "As you wish," he groaned and pushed forward with gentle insistence, though all his body _screamed_ for him to plunge hard into her, again and again, until this torturous _need_ was sated. A darker part of him added to the lust, but was brought under the control of an iron will.

**Tifa: **

She _writhed_. Caught in the grip of something terribly wonderful, Tifa moaned and jerked, nearly frantically pulling at Vincent as he returned to her. Her gasping mouth met his with a passion long buried within her and a sharp pain lanced through her stomach at the slick taste of herself upon his lips and tongue. _Sinful, this devil…_ Begging hips lifted as he parted her legs and she bucked against him, mewling deep in her throat, pleading for him to complete her. Her hands clutched at his shoulders as they ground against the other. She stared at him dazedly as he retrieved one of her hands and wrapped her fingers around his achingly hard shaft, the heavy flesh burning to her touch. On fire with desire, Tifa guided him to her wanting, aching body, her back arching and breath whistling from clenched teeth as a white-hot pain flamed through her loins; _Planet_, but it'd been a while!

Tifa's heart almost stopped as she felt him hesitate. _No!_ Her mouth latched to his, teeth digging into his upper lip as both of her hands gripped his hips hard and _yanked_ him to her, sheathed completely inside her warm wet depths, a swift gasp testament to the initial discomfort. Strong thigh muscles clamped against his hips as she moaned his name into his mouth, letting her hips buck beneath him.

**Vincent: **

All thought left him as Tifa roughly jerked him into her, though he _knew_ care should be taken. She'd have none of it, and the abruptness with which he was encased in hot, moist silk almost had him undone. Eyes squeezed tightly closed and he tore his lips from hers with breath hissing between bared, clenched teeth. "Careful..." he warned, and pressed into her hard enough to slow her movements. Such wanton, uninhibited motions would see that this was over sooner than he would like. He wanted to savor her, the large, full mounds pressed to his chest, the slippery feel of sweat-dampened skin against skin, the incredible _tightness_ that surrounded and clenched his girth with delicious contractions...

He forced himself to take a deep breath and try to think of anything but fucking her, just to ensure he lasted long enough to please her. Left hand buried and fisted in her hair, he looked into her dark eyes with lust and something so much deeper. Nearly all the way out he slid, only to push back into her more slowly, out quickly, then back in just as unhurried as before. Hot, ragged breaths washed over her face, though his lips did not touch hers. Instead he traced those satin petals with taunting licks, as if trying her for the first time. Luscious curves met hard angles again and again, matching so perfectly that it almost hurt and he began to tremble with every move, every breath.

**Tifa: **

It wasn't enough. As delicious as it was, she still burned inside. But _Gaia_, it felt _so_ good, so sinfully _right_ she didn't pause to consider any ramifications beyond quenching this insatiable _need_ flaming through her molten body. Tifa whimpered and panted as Vincent began to move within her, a maddeningly slow rhythm that had her keening beneath him, hips jerking upwards to meet his, seeking to impale herself upon him. Her head tossed and she mewled, licking at his taunting tongue, trying to capture the slick muscle with her own lips but he remained _just_ out of reach.

Long, long legs wrapped around his waist, driving him still deeper with each torturously slow thrust and her back arched in response to the delicious angle. She was wound tighter than a bowstring and her body quivered, just _waiting_ to snap. Sweat glistened on taunt flesh, slick beneath their hands. From a place far away she dimly heard his ragged baritone groan her name as he dove within her again, sending her screaming beneath him.

Nails scraped down his shoulders as Tifa convulsed, thighs clenching around his waist and hips, strong inner muscles straining around the invasive shaft, buried so deep inside her. She heaved and bucked, crying and panting his name with every ragged breath as she held tightly to him, arms and ankles locked around him, keeping him close to her.

**Vincent: **

As her legs wrapped around his waist, Vincent brought one of his knees up, pressing his thigh to one side of her firmly rounded rear, lifting her slightly and rubbing hard against the front inner wall with every thrust. Despite all attempts to hold back, desperation finally drove him into her faster, harder as her body beckoned. Her pleading chant of his named with such a sinfully raw voice wore away his self control, and he felt pressure begin to build in his loins. Her name left him in whispers and sighs, murmurs and sharp groans as she took him into her body, accepted him in ways he'd never dared to dream of.

Like a knot she tightened and wound around him, and his hardness swelled fractionally and began to throb. _Oh Gaia..._ he thought, and unknown to him breathed aloud until he finally realized the hoarse chorus was coming from him with verses of her name. Grinding so hard into her that his pelvis rubbed that tender nub above her entrance almost constantly, Vincent's breath caught in his lungs as the tension in her body became too much and all his control came crashing down in a soundless cry against her neck. Though he tried so hard to be aware of whether or not she was satiated, his thoughts were so much a jumble of sweet oblivion while he shuddered into her, panting her name into her hair.

**Tifa: **

Tifa held him tight as he followed her, his heaving sending electric ripples through her still shivering body. A strange thrill rocketed through her as he spasmed and jerked, wildly bucking atop her. Their cries and moans mingled throughout the warm dimness of her bedroom but gradually breathing eased and regulated, save for the odd shudder that wormed through Tifa every so often. Fingers smoothed through damp black hair strewn about Vincent's still-shaking shoulders as she held him, loath to let him go. But despite his leanness, he wasn't light and she wiggled around a bit, settling them comfortably against the other without really moving.

Tifa felt exhausted, but strangely _complete_, as if she'd found something she hadn't known was missing. The silence was tender and the air gentle on warm damp skin as they lay together. Her eyes felt so heavy but she kept them open, although half-lidded. She pressed soft kisses against Vincent's temple, tasting the salty flavor of skin as she stroked hard muscle with quiet fingers.

**Vincent: **

Utterly, completely drained and with every ounce of tension expelled from his body, Vincent lay draped over her, only moving the tiniest bit when she adjusted their position to be of more comfort. His breath evened out as hers did, but he also trembled in minute aftershocks from time to time. _This_ was bliss. _This_ was something he'd sought for so long, yet never had. With Lucrecia, he'd thought it had been wonderful, if bittersweet.

Yet holding Tifa as he did now, he knew that his past was a pale comparison. He'd once made love to the woman of his dreams with the painful knowledge that she would march herself right back into another man's arms, like he never existed. This night, more than three decades later, he held in his arms a remarkable person whom he treasured... and who reciprocated, though she'd never been obligated to give him a thing. He felt her kisses and slowly turned his head so that they trailed to his mouth, where he met her with a gentle, chaste kiss. Passion spent for the night, he couldn't help letting his eyelids droop as hers did in their euphoria.

After so many moments of silent, post coital intimacy, he nuzzled her cheek and asked, "Does this mean I picked out all that furniture for nothing?" He wasn't sure she wanted to share a room with him, but he certainly hoped, even as he jested. The small grin he wore faded to a genuine, grateful smile. He wanted to tell her he loved her, but words were so meaningless now. So instead, he simply said the next best thing.

"Thank you." _For more than you can understand._

**Tifa: **

A sweet murr of contentment escaped her as they kissed, so sweetly and purely. Unhurried, calm, peaceful. Tifa's arms draped lovingly across pale, strong shoulders and she giggled quietly as he nuzzled her.

"Mmm, not _quite_ for nothing," she answered with a playful smile. "You might need a place to go when I get too much to handle, Vincent," she told him, kissing his cheek. Truly, she couldn't get enough of him.

"And I'd certainly want you to be comfortable while you vent spleen at me for whatever dumb thing I do down the road." She poked his stomach. "Like drop laundry down the stairs or spill coffee all over your best white shirt."

She then became a bit hesitant, blinking wide brown eyes at him. "…do you want to stay? I mean, in here, tonight, or…?"

Tifa's cheeks flushed; she really didn't know how to go about this. It was terribly hard to think and reason with all that rampant lingering pleasure tingling in her veins and a naked, sated _Vincent_ less than an inch away.

Her flush deepened, spreading down her throat to the tops of her breasts. "…you're welcome," she whispered, not really understanding, but offering it anyway. She gave up and snuggled against him with a small shiver. Even though it was late summer, she still ran the air conditioning, keeping the house moderately cool.

**Vincent: **

He chuckled softly at her musings on all the things she might do that were so truly petty. And in any case, all of his favorite shirts were black, so coffee wouldn't hurt. He pulled her to lie against his side as he rolled onto his back, her dark head pillowed on his shoulder. The sense of calm and peace was something he could easily get used to, a welcomed change. Valentine had thought that he'd already achieved those feelings by living with her and the kids and having the steady routine of day to day life with them, but the completeness he felt now overshadowed all that.

He hummed in thought, deep voice still rough from their passion, "Well, 'tonight' is long gone." One corner of his lips turned up, "But I would like to stay with you this morning. And every night that you'll have me." He did not doubt it would be often, perhaps always. He tucked her head under his chin as she snuggled into him. He knew she didn't understand exactly what his gratitude meant, but smiled nonetheless. One day, she might realize, but even if she didn't, he was content. Tucking the covers around them, Vincent murmured his goodnights to her and Tifa returned them. Lethargy finally gave way to exhaustion, and both soon fell asleep, moments before the coming of the dawn.

_To be continued…_


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note: **Wow, we're back! Sort of. Real life gets in the way sometimes. And how Nat and I loathe it. Grrarg. The next updates I can't predict, but we're going to try our best. But we've been working on more of the tale, thanks especially to the folks who have read and reviewed. You guys make us so happy! It's great to know there are folks out there who are genuinely interested in our work and appreciate it as much as we do.

To the fantastic emails, comments and reviews, we give a heartfelt _thank you_ from the bottom of our creative muses, you guys are awesome. ) Just for the fans, here is the next installment of _Beginnings_; I most sincerely hope you enjoy the reading.

_Sibilant Macabre_

**Disclaimer and Warning:** We don't own it, as stated before. Note the changed rating for there is adult content in this chapter as well. Ye've been warned.

**Chapter Twenty:**

**Tifa: **

Coherency returned slowly, then blossomed into full wakefulness with the muscle spasms across Tifa's lower stomach. She gasped in pain and blinked open wide eyes only to squench them closed again. Reality returned and memory blazed across her closed lids. _Heaven's_ opening. Vincent. Dancing with Vincent. _Making love_ with Vincent.

Oh. That's why things were a bit out of sorts this morning. Reality was solidified as she realized she wasn't alone in her bed. Soft warm air breathed against her neck and she carefully tilted her head, seeing her bartender still holding her close. His right arm was draped across her stomach and Vincent's nose rested against her jaw, his breathing still deep and even. Although they'd undoubtedly slept close and beneath her covers since falling asleep, now that Tifa was awake, she was getting a bit warm. Vincent hogged covers, but he also generated enough heat to run a furnace. Besides, she needed to get up and get breakfast started. What time _was_ it anyway? _Carefully_, Tifa maneuvered from beneath Vincent's possessive hold, nearly gasping at the realization it was almost _eleven in the morning_! _Blessed Planet…!_

Quietly, as not to disturb the slumbering gunslinger, Tifa tossed on her robe, ignoring her protesting muscles and, without thinking of her general dishevelment, hurried from her bedroom to the kitchen, only to stop and stare at a placid Nanaki, sitting in his divan with tail swishing lazily.

"Good morning, Tifa," the cat said conversationally. Tifa only blinked. "I trust you slept well?" Red cordially asked.

Recovering her speech faculties _finally_, Tifa managed to answer. "Um…I did, thanks." Her brows quirked in puzzlement. There were used coffee cups in the sink and leftover brew in the coffee maker.

"…Red?" she asked slowly, stepping to the kitchen's bar counter.

Feline ears lifted in query.

"Where is everyone?" she asked.

Nanaki flowed from his divan, padding into the kitchen and sitting on his haunches.

"Gone to lunch," he replied. At her puzzled gaze, he chuckled and explained. "Due to the…circumstances last night, what with you and Vincent being up _so_ very late, working, Barret proposed to take everyone for a late breakfast this morning, to let you get your rest. I remained, of course, as I have little use for restaurants in general." The cat's head inclined. "And to let you know when you awoke." Red's lips rippled in a feline grin. "They've not been gone very long, I believe. And knowing how the men eat, it will be a few hours before they return." Nanaki rose to his feet and turned with feline grace. "Now that you are awake, I believe I shall take a lope about town for a bit of exercise."

Tifa, who'd remained immobile in the middle of the kitchen, fought a hot blush as Red's good eye closed in a sly wink towards her. "Enjoy the morning, Tifa. You've earned it, methinks." Another purred growl and the large feline sauntered from the house.

It took Tifa a moment to digest all this. Good _Gaia_, had anyone _heard_, last night? Fire colored her cheeks as she realized that yes, someone probably had. She automatically made fresh coffee and bit her lip, recalling that Barret had been bunking in the office, which was near her bedroom. She put a hand to her forehead and groaned. _Godlings_. Well, there was no help for it now and she'd be _damned_ before she regret it. A soft smile graced her lips. Indeed, she recalled with shivering memory, there was _nothing_ to regret.

Tifa poured two cups of the black liquid, doctored hers and brought both back to her bedroom, placing Vincent's cup on the bedside table and sat down on the edge of the bed beside him, silently sipping her coffee and waiting for him to wake.

**Vincent: **

Vincent was pulled from pleasant slumber not by the intermittent sunlight that seeped through tiny cracks in the draperies, but by the strong smell of freshly brewed coffee. It'd been tickling at his nostrils for a while now, but with it now in the room with him, he could resist no longer. Red eyes opened halfway and blinked in a lazy manner beneath tousled bangs.

As his gaze settled on Tifa, he smiled in a manner that matched the lethargy remaining in his body, face blushing just the slightest as last night's events came rushing back to the forefront of his thoughts. Dreams had been enough to ensure that those memories were never far, to begin with. With her hair still disheveled and her skin somehow retaining last night's glow, he thought she was even more beautiful than all the mornings before.

Reaching for the coffee she'd made for him, he greeted her while fighting a yawn. He hadn't slept like that in _memory_. "Good morning." His voice retained that low, rough quality as he continued after sitting up enough to take a sip. "Did you sleep as well as I did?" He was _almost_ smirking.

**Tifa: **

Tifa sipped her coffee, then placed her cup on the bedside table, a doofy smile on her lips. "I did," she answered with a soft chuckle. "I take it my mattress is comfy?" she twinkled at him. Having run out of things to say, she just glanced at her toes, playing in the cream carpet and focused on braiding her fingers together. _Awkward_ didn't begin to cover it. Although nothing was _wrong_, Tifa really didn't know how to go about these things. Despite the flaming passion and roiling desire of only a few hours before, the brightness of day put things in a _complete_ new light.

**Vincent: **

"Hn," he nodded in agreement, "I had the most _comfortable_ pillow, as well." Another smile that faded slightly as he watched her study her hands, the floor, anything. Well, he couldn't blame her; it was a big change from every morning before that.

He let the silence hang thick in the air until about halfway through his cup of coffee, when he set it back on the nightstand and swung his legs over the side of the bed to sit beside her, the coverlet still hiding his lap out of the habit of dignity. He placed one arm around her shoulders and found himself wishing they were still bare... along with the rest of her. She didn't look as though she was having morning-after regrets, for which he was exceedingly thankful. It was just a matter of not knowing what to say. Mundane things were always a decent starting point, the gunslinger-turned-bartender thought.

"Have you had anything to eat yet? I don't hear anyone downstairs..."

**Tifa: **

Tifa smiled to his "pillow" remark, giving him a furtive glance from beneath her lashes. She couldn't help but cuddle beneath his arm, however, leaning against him. Shaking her head, she said, "No, I'm not really that hungry." She paused for a minute, then said, "Everyone went out for breakfast this morning." Brown eyes narrowed. "I suspect good intentions," she said with a mock scowl.

"What I'd _really_ like is a shower." The banter from Costa del Sol niggled at her mind, making her bite her lower lip. And good Planet as much as she'd like to share it, how did one go about _asking_? Tifa chewed her lip some more. Getting up, she drifted towards the bathroom, pulling at the robe's tie as she went. Glancing in the spacious lavatory, she suddenly half-grinned and quipped, "This one's more than big enough, I think."

**Vincent: **

He grinned as he watched her saunter towards the bathroom, remembering all too well the movements that supple body was capable of. When she'd mentioned needing a shower, the very first thing in his mind was bathing with her, reveling in the way their wet bodies slid against each other as he pinned her against the wall and... He had to stop that line of thought, though it was in vain once her robe fell open and pooled on the floor around her ankles. "Even if it weren't... I think we could make do," he mused as he stood and followed her once he heard the water running. No one was home, they had nothing to do for hours, and he wasn't really hungry either. There seemed nothing better to do than finally follow through with that tease from some months ago.

**Tifa: **

Tifa opened the shower door and turned the water on, eagerly looking forward to the hot water's steamy caress. Goosebumps shivered over bare skin as the mist from the stream sprinkled over her arm. She closed the door to let the water continue to warm and turned to see Vincent casually strolling towards the bathroom, seemingly not bothered by either of their blatantly undressed state.

Tifa, however, couldn't _help_ but stare. Granted, she was now a bit more familiar with the male flesh so vividly displayed, but she was _sure_ the generous serving of lean musculature coupled with sinfully black hair and smoldering crimson eyes would continue to render her speechless for many days, and nights, to come. The scars and imperfections that marred Vincent's body only added to his darkly devilish beauty, to Tifa's mind. He strode towards her, a curious slight smile on those mobile lips and Tifa felt herself blushing hotly again. Had she been more sure of herself, had this not been such a new and different situation for them both, Tifa felt she might have met him in the bathroom door, put both arms around him and ravished him right on the tile floor.

But before she could untangle either her tongue or her fingers to attempt just that, the doorbell chime sounded from downstairs. Tifa blinked. Saturday morning. The grocery delivery. _Damnit!_ Vile epithets coursed through her brain. But it couldn't be helped. Grimacing, she heaved a sigh and said after clearing her throat, "Groceries. It's Saturday."

Quickly gathering up her robe, she clutched it tightly and gave him a winsome smile, accompanied by a soft longing kiss, one slim hand pressed lightly over his scarred heart. "Don't worry," she breathed against his lips with a grin, "won't take long. I'll be _right_ back." Slipping the robe on hurriedly, Tifa tied it and quickly descended the stairs into the kitchen, where the deliveryman waited with patience of the near immortal.

**Vincent: **

Just as she had been admiring him, Vincent had been taking in every amazing detail of Tifa's body. The daylight that made its way in between the blinds and curtains played on her soft skin with a glow completely different from last night. _Planet_, but she was beautiful...

The interruption of the doorbell caused him to frown, then sigh as she snatched up her robe. "All right," was all he could say as she rushed downstairs to answer the door and receive the delivery. Normally, he'd have gone down with her to take inventory, but on a morning like this, following what had to be the best night of his life thus far, he could not give a damn. He hoped she didn't, either, for the sooner she was back upstairs and out of that robe, the better.

Vincent walked to the shower and turned the water off, to save on hot water. It wouldn't likely run out on them... but better safe than to risk ruining a nice shower by having the water turn cold. And Vincent did _not_ plan on a short session, either.

His mind wandered to images of her, of him pressing her against the shower wall, taking her with her legs wrapped tight around his waist and the heat of the water steaming off their bodies... He decided to stop that line of thought for the moment. Instead, since no one else was in the house, he took the chance to wrap a towel around his waist and slip into the hallway, making his way to his room. He pulled some clothes out of the closet, bundled them under one arm and returned to her room. Best to not come out of Tifa's room naked when the others were present, should they return before he and Tifa had gotten clean. And sated. The latter somehow seemed a little more important than the former.

After all... there were years to catch up on, for him at least. He laid the clothes on her bed and sat on the edge, waiting patiently.

**Tifa: **

_Why_ couldn't the man move a bit more quickly? Teeth worried Tifa's lower lip as she fidgeted anxiously, eyes constantly straying upstairs. But she gave the man an automatic smile as he bustled to and fro, depositing the boxes on the kitchen's neat floor. "Where you want the cold stuff, Miss Lockheart?" he asked genially. He blinked. "Miss Lockheart?" he asked again, eyeing her a bit.

Tifa came back to reality with a blink and replied, "Yes? Oh, I'm so sorry, right there by the freezer, thanks."

The man shook his head in amusement, doubtless he'd routed Miss Tifa out of bed and _apparently_ she had her mind on other things, judging from her disheveled state and absent gaze. He chuckled as he unloaded the last of the boxes and wheeled them inside. "Them's the last, Miss Lockheart," he said, producing the invoice from a shirt pocket and offering her a pen. Tifa quickly took the paper and scrawled her signature across it, handing him both back and receiving the bottom copy. The delivery man doffed his cap genially and she closed and locked the door behind him then merely opened the freezer door and pushed the cold-labeled boxes inside and closing it hurriedly.

Taking the stairs two at a time, she ran upstairs and hustled to her bedroom, stopping for a regulating breath before going inside. Brushing disheveled hair back from her face, she inhaled and exhaled deeply and evenly, marshalling her courage and turned the knob. Within she spied Vincent, sitting comfortably on the edge of the bed. The sickeningly sweet feeling of tingling lust fluttered low in her stomach, looking at him.

Not missing the first beat, Tifa marched to him and threw a leg over his lap, straddling his thighs. Her robe bunched but she didn't rightly care. Arms resting atop Vincent's slender shoulders, Tifa planted a quick kiss to his lips, pulling back to smirk brightly. "I'm back, dear," she said with a giggle.

**Vincent: **

As she plopped ever so casually onto his lap, Vincent raised one brow at her, but did not smile. She had taken, according to her bedside clock, exactly fifteen minutes and forty-seven seconds. About fifteen minutes, seventeen seconds too long, in his opinion. He looked her up, then down, then declared in a serious tone, "I believe you're overdressed. That won't do."

Without preamble, one hand quickly had her belt undone, then the other ran up her back to pull the fabric down from the neckline. It parted and slid off her shoulders without a fuss, and as it pooled onto the floor, he finally allowed a small smile to form. "Much better. Now...I believe there was a challenge made some months ago regarding a shower, Miss Lockheart." He leaned forward to press a warm kiss to her throat, a caress of lips and tongue that traveled upward and ended at her ear with a whisper, "Can't have you going around smelling like sex..."

For his part, he was almost content to smell exactly like that. There was no better scent to be covered in, than hers. So it was propriety and cleanliness so much as renewed lust that motivated him to stand, holding her up by her thighs, and walk them back into the bathroom. And Gaia _help_ anyone who interrupted this time.

**Tifa: **

Tifa faltered at his serious tone, but a spark of humor lit her eyes as he divested her of the cumbersome robe. Gladly she let it fall, shivering in delight at Vincent's touch. Ripples of desire flitted over her skin as he nuzzled and licked her, making her moan throatily and sway against him. "Oh, _Vincent_," she breathed as her head fell back eagerly.

Trembling fingers curled in thick midnight hair, reveling in the cool softness against her hands. She squealed and clutched him a bit tighter as he stood, lifting her, but she blushed hotly to his whispered comment. Truly, it just _wouldn't_ do, that. But in all honesty, Tifa didn't see what was so _bad_ about it. Her knees trembled a bit as he set her on the floor, the tile cool beneath her feet.

Loath to relinquish her hold, Tifa reluctantly turned and opened the shower door, turning the water back on and quickly getting in, gasping as the warm stream hit her skin, splashing her chest and running down her body. Turning her back to the wall and facing the door, Tifa cocked a naughty hip and gave her bartender a siren's smile. "Well, Vincent?" she said huskily. "I'm waiting…"

**Vincent: **

She didn't have to wait long. Already fully aroused, Vincent stepped into the shower and slid the door closed behind him. He turned to her and stood close, but didn't touch, despite his obvious desire. The hot water caused hypersensitive flesh to ripple and tense, waiting until his skin adjusted to the heat. He didn't really notice, though, he was too busy paying attention to the pink tint the warmth gave to her skin, and the way her nipples drew to tight buds.

With the sort of self control that should be _legendary_, Vincent reached for the lavender body wash and the fluffy sponge instead of reaching for those glorious breasts. He worked a thick lather over the sponge then stared into her eyes, crimson darkening with the haze of want. "Turn around," he instructed. When she had, he used his left hand - still covered by the ever-present and thankfully water-proof glove - to brush her long hair aside, laying it over her shoulder. Then he applied the soapy sponge in slow, deliberate circles, firm but gentle as his left hand now slid down her side and settled on her hip.

As he bathed her, he stepped closer, bringing her body against his once her back was slippery with the lovely lavender wash. He groaned softly into her ear as his erection pressed between them, and he took a moment to relish the sensation of skin sliding against skin so slickly... something _completely_ new to him. His right hand worked the sponge over her front now, starting at her belly and wandering up to her breasts where he lingered, his left hand helping. His lips and teeth nipped at her neck and shoulder, broken by husky breaths and whispers.

"You kept me waiting..." He was referring to far more than the grocery delivery. "Yearning." _For months._ "Wanting you..." _So badly_. "And it was worth every minute, and more." With a gentle tug of her hair he tilted her head back and with her face toward him and kissed her deeply, slow and heated. His other hand still wreaked sinful havoc on her body, drifting from her breasts to her stomach and finally between her thighs.

**Tifa: **

Brown eyes blinked as the shower door closed. Tifa fully expected to be ravaged, so intense was the concentration writ upon Vincent's countenance. And it surprised her a bit as she realized her disappointment as she _wasn't_, but instead was soaped generously with delicious smelling body wash. Which was made even more luscious due to Vincent's hands smoothing it over her tingling skin.

One hand braced against the slick wall to keep her standing upright, the other clenched at her side but opened and sought pale flesh behind her, fingers brushing Vincent's hip. But a throaty moan escaped her as Vincent stepped closer, groaning at her ear. Tifa couldn't help but rub against him, body sinuously sliding against his, acutely aware of the throbbing flesh between them. Soft sighs mingled with his name panted from parted lips as those killing hands roamed over her stomach and breasts, the heavy aching flesh pressing into his palms as her back arched.

Tifa shivered as he nipped at her, moaning in wantonness, hands reaching behind her to grasp his hips, rolling her own against his. Unable to form coherent words to answer, she whimpered as he kissed her, their tongues mingling hot and heated between fused lips. The _taste_ of him was intoxicating. Tifa was mildly surprised the water hadn't reached a roiling boil from the steam between them; she knew her blood was indeed afire. The desperate need for air parted their lips and Tifa inhaled shakily, only to gasp and buck against his hand as devilish fingers delved low on her flaming body.

"_Vincent_…" she panted, head turning so her mouth could latch to his throat, teeth voraciously nipping the slick skin, soothed by slow laps of her tongue. One brazen hand drifted further between them and long wet fingers curled around hot heavy flesh, fingernails gently assailing the sensitive skin as she slid continuously along his strong lithe body.

**Vincent: **

When her hand gripped him, he nearly lost all willpower and gave into the urge to simply fuck her, until one or both of them could no longer stand and were left a satisfied puddle of flesh on the shower floor. Yet amazingly, that last shred of control held fast enough for him to only moan her name and delve questing fingers further between her folds, the sponge now switched to his left hand. The water and soap on the rest of her body was not nearly as slick as the liquid that met his hand, and he took wicked delight in coaxing more of the same from her. His index and middle fingers pushed and probed while his thumb and the heel of his palm rubbed and worried at the tiny bud above her entrance.

Her teeth scored the skin of his neck, but it only added to the pleasure she gave him with her hand upon his length and her body in his arms. When her hand sliding up and down his shaft had become almost too much, his fingers withdrew and he grasped her hand, carefully pulling it from him to place the sponge in her palm. "Your turn," he almost growled in a low whisper before kissing her again, this time harder, a little more aggressive.

**Tifa: **

Hot panted whimpers tripped from Tifa's shivering lips as her hips bucked and writhed beneath Vincent's devilish fingers. She mewled and panted, trembling violently as those dexterous fingers assaulted quivering flesh. But just before she thought she would explode in a burst of stars, the digits disappeared and left her quaking.

A bit surprised, Tifa blinked as the sponge was deposited in her hand. A shiver raced down her spine at the animalistic growl lacing Vincent's normally rough sexy voice. Returning his torrid kiss, _Gaia_ how she loved them; she stepped back and looked him up and down, deciding where to begin. Putting lather on the sponge, she smoothed it across his chest, both hands sudsy and massaging the sweet smelling stuff across both of his shoulders. Absorbed in her work, Tifa diligently cleaned him, adding more soap to the sponge.

Rather than have him turn around, she simply pulled him forward, directly into the warm spray and reached around him to wash and suds his back, pressing soft lips to the freshly cleaned skin of his chest. Her soapy hands roamed his back and shoulders, drifting fingertips down his spine to flatten palms against his rump, her fingernails gently flexing in hard muscle. Her mouth roamed his chest, tongue flicking at a hard male nipple, paying detailed attention before roaming towards his collarbone, teeth gently nibbling on the hard ridge.

She pressed against him slickly, soft breath wafting against his skin with her gentle ministrations. Teeth encountered the opposite nipple and worried the sensitive flesh before her lips closed over it and suckled a bit harshly. Fingernails bit into his hips as she did so and her lazy moan drifted through the shower. Tifa's head leaned back to gaze up at Vincent with passion-glazed eyes and her lips curled in a crooked smile. Returning to her work, she added more soap and swirled the lather lower, bathing his stomach and abdomen, kneeling before him to press wet flicking kisses to the cleaned expanse of skin.

Taking time to enjoy the distinctive flavor of _Vincent_, Tifa's tongue swirled into his navel, nipping flesh gently. Lathered hands drifted behind his knees and up the back of his thighs, caressing and stroking. Her nose nuzzled lower, tongue darting from her lips to taste and tease. Pausing, she looked up at him through thick lashes and when she asked, her voice was husky.

"…Vincent…do you want me to…?" But before he could either negate or assent, she did anyway. One hand cupped him, fingers curling delicately, while her mouth lowered and she licked him, so gently. A soft sigh wafted warm breath over the rigid flesh, then Tifa carefully slipped him in her mouth, only part of the way, as she really lacked experience in this facet of lovemaking, but she didn't find it _quite_ as repulsive as she'd first thought. Withdrawing, she licked her lips and tried it again, this time taking the shaft a little deeper, tongue swirling teasingly around the hard flesh.

**Vincent: **

He smiled like a darkly handsome devil as she washed him, even more as she pulled him against her to access his back. Soft sighs and heavy breaths mingled with the sound of running water now and then as he enjoyed her attentions. He became all too aware, though, that she was heading further south with every flick of that lovely pink tongue.

"Tifa..." he whispered, eyes a bit wide as he realized where she was heading with this. No woman had ever taken him into her mouth before, and just the thought that Tifa was already willing to do so caused his member to quiver in anticipation. At her unfinished question, he could only stare at her incredulously. Did he _want_ her to? What man _wouldn't_?

Before he could answer, she licked the tip of him, which drew a gasp and a shudder. When her delicate mouth enveloped the head, all coherent thought fled. His eyes rolled beneath tightly closed lids and his head fell back, long hair spilling down his back and caught in the spray of the water. Her tongue and the wet heat of her mouth, her teeth lightly grazing such sensitive flesh were absolutely _astounding_. Her name was dragged from low in his throat, an exclamation and a desperate prayer, "Ohhh gods, _Tifa_..."

His hands buried and fisted in her hair, torn between being careful not to hurt her and pushing her further down. To his credit, he resisted the urge and let her do as she would to him, though his knees shook each time she withdrew and took him in again, each time a fraction of an inch deeper. He finally had to steady himself with his left hand against the shower wall, groaning her name as she tortured him so sweetly. He knew he wouldn't last long if she weren't careful to take her time, and if he weren't careful enough to warn her.

**Tifa: **

A thrill rocketed through Tifa at Vincent's ragged response. She felt his hands clench in her hair and paused in her work, releasing him and licking her lips reflexively. She looked up and heat spiraled through her to see this beautiful man before her thus, back bowed in pleasure, throat quivering with _her_ ministrations to his lovely body, water streaming through that midnight mass of glorious hair spilling down his muscled back. _Gaia_, but she loved him.

Willing to see him shake and writhe a bit more, Tifa steadied herself and boldly took all of him in her mouth, as much as she could without choking. Tightening her lips, she closed her eyes and sucked him hard, one long stroke, pulling her mouth away so very slowly, taking eternity to slip him from between her parted lips. Both hands curled around the achingly hard shaft as she rose to her feet, finding his lips and enveloping his mouth in a hot steaming kiss. Her tongue thrust between his lips, sliding enticingly across even teeth before swirling into the dark sweet cavern of his mouth.

Moaning, she kissed him thoroughly, pulling away only when the desire threatened to crest and spill over. She bit his ear, pleading, "I want you, Vincent…please…" Tifa lifted her arms, water sluicing over them both, and wound them around Vincent's neck, hands diving into the thick wet hair plastered to his shoulders. "…_now_…"

**Vincent: **

A ragged groan tore from his throat as he sank most of the way into her mouth. Her tongue rubbing across the underside of his length made him gasp, then the long, slow sucking as she pulled back nearly rocketed him over the edge. He growled softly, all the warning he could muster at the moment, and was both relieved and frustrated when her mouth was replaced with her hands.

The frustration was short-lived however, for she rose and he took her invading kiss and returned it ten fold. His hands gripped her rump and pulled her roughly against him, panting as she pulled away to nibble his ear and whisper her plea. Smiling lips revealed his perfect white teeth that bit down on her neck while he pushed her toward the shower wall, until her back met the slick tiles. He insinuated one knee between her thighs and parted them enough so he could bend and catch each to lift her, her weight now supported by the wall and his strong arms.

His erection ached now, pressed between them again until he lifted her enough to free it, letting the hardness brush her warm center. As his hand snaked between them to guide him in, he held her steady, not yet lowering her onto him. "How badly do you want it, Tifa?" He kissed her again, giving her no time to answer. His tongue pried willing lips apart and dueled with the soft, teasing muscle within her mouth, as if paying retribution for her earlier torture. His strength and balance was more than enough to keep them from toppling over, and he lowered her fractionally, enough that the tip of him parted her folds and pressed marginally into her.

"As badly as I want you?" he added on to his earlier question, then lowered her fully, fighting the urge to bite her lips a little too hard. _Gaia_, it was at least as good as last night, as tight as her body desperately clenched at him. Taking a shaking breath, he withdrew from her, then entered again ever so slowly, his hips setting a rhythm that he hoped would ensure that he could outlast her.

**Tifa: **

Tifa squeaked as he grabbed her and shoved her against the shower wall, but she wound arms and legs around him, loath to relinquish his embrace. Her head tilted and she moaned to feel his manhood pressed so hard between them; she _ached_ for him to take her. Her body was a writhing mass of quivering nerves, every one singing his name in wanton chorus. She returned his wild kisses just as passionately, their tongues wrapping together behind her lips. Breasts pressed heavy against his chest with every labored pant that ripped from her lungs and she whined as he teased her, lithe hips bucking in flaming passion for him to _get inside_ her.

Heated whispers coupled with frantic kisses strewn about his face, nipping at his lips, breathed from her and she moaned in complete satisfaction as Vincent _finally_ sank her down atop him. Strong thighs clenched around his waist as she pressed down upon him and Tifa's head tossed, sending water streaming over the tile walls and down her body. Shivering, she moved sinuously against his smoothly thrusting body, their rhythm slow and unhurried, sending the deliciously familiar sensations glittering through her blood once again. Her hands clenched at his shoulders as she braced against him, wanting it never to end. "_Vincent_," she moaned throatily, running her tongue around the contours of his ear and bathing the delicate inner shell before biting at the skin and sucking tender flesh beneath as her body instinctively tightened around him, pulling him ever deeper inside.

**Vincent: **

The sounds of their moans and breathing mingled with that of the water beating down on their bodies and the more subtle noise of wet skin sliding against skin. He kept the pace slow, painfully so for him, until he was certain he could withstand a faster pace. In more slowly, out quickly, the pace kept just so due to the slick friction caused when her body tried so desperately to drag him back inside of her. Each thrust in became more difficult as she wound tighter than a coiled spring, but Vincent more than welcomed the challenge.

Trusting her grip on him, he slid his right hand back up her body, cupping one large, tender breast and kneading the heavy flesh, catching and teasing the hardened nipple between his fingers. How he _longed_ to do the same with another tiny bundle of nerves far lower, but the position would not allow it and he'd be damned if he were going to switch up now. Harder he thrust, deeper and faster, crushing his mouth to hers all the while, breaking away only to gasp for air. Closer... he was getting so much closer now.

Pressure built at the base of his member, creeping ever upward, begging for release with a throbbing pulse. He strove frantically to hold it back, yet made the mistake of opening his eyes enough to behold the rapture on Tifa's face. The beast within him rose just enough at the thought that he held such sway over her; just enough that he lost that self control he so prided himself in. Growling her name along with so many possessive words against her lips, he spilled into her, hot, thick liquid flooding her with a spasm deep within.

He shuddered and almost sank to the floor, but held just enough strength to lean into her and keep them upright a bit longer, gasping and inwardly pleading for the sensations to stay. "Oh gods... Tifa... oh _gods_," he whispered, now thoroughly spent once more.

**Tifa: **

Again. She was going into orbit _again_. And didn't care whether she regained the earth, not as long as Vincent held her. Tifa squirmed, writhed and swayed against him, their water-slicked bodies sliding together in perfection incarnate, one smooth thrust against the other. He _fit_ inside her, smooth steel wrapped in a silken glove. Tifa's brain caught fire and she cried out helplessly as his flesh hand found and fondled her breast, administering just the right amount of painful pleasure to the pebbled nipple.

She tensed, suspended for a long moment then wildly yelled his name, nails dug into his shoulders as his next thrust shoved her right over the cliff into crashing ecstasy. Strong inner muscles rippled along the invading member as her legs tightened around his waist, ankles locked. Ten seconds later, she cried out again as she felt him spasm deep within her, shuddering and flooding her with scalding warmth. Her trembling lips panted and their mingled words fell together as Vincent gasped into her mouth. Her entire body tingled and throbbed.

Her breathing still erratic, Tifa clutched Vincent tightly, dimly aware that somehow her legs had slid to the tile and she stood on her own two shaking limbs. Passion glazed eyes still hazy, she found Vincent's mouth and licked his lips in a sloppy kiss, unable to stop the words that panted from her lips as she would have been able to stop the rising sun. "Vincent…I love you. _Oh_, how I love you…"

**Vincent: **

He had only a vague awareness of her kiss, his lips and tongue returning it automatically. Everything was shivering bliss. Vincent's heart still pounded against his chest, his blood racing through his veins and fueling the tingles that spread and ebbed to and fro across his body. His hands had left her breasts and thighs in favor of simply holding her close, one at her lower back and one around her shoulders. Nothing could be more perfect... until he heard her words.

He pulled away only enough to look at her with awestruck red eyes that held more tentative hope than he should have been capable of. He had known in his heart that she wanted him, needed him, loved him on _some_ level. But to hear her say it and to look into her eyes now, to see the sincerity there... it affected him more profoundly than he had imagined. Lucrecia had never said that. He'd resigned himself to a life without hearing those words from a woman he loved.

He was afraid at first he'd mistook her words, had heard them wrong. But her eyes confirmed them, and that warm ache in his chest that had first started months ago, before Cloud had died, swelled stronger than before. His embrace suddenly tightened as he whispered, eyes shut tight now.

"I... I love you, as well." He nuzzled her neck and the wet tangles of her hair that stuck to it. "So much more than you know, Tifa. So, so much." His breath was still ragged, and he blamed it for his voice almost breaking. His knees finally giving way, he sank to the shower floor with her, the warm water beating down on them both.

**Tifa: **

Tifa's cheeks flamed scarlet as she realized what she'd actually _said_, but she summoned her courage and was determined not to take them back. The eyes that gazed down at her were wide and thunderstruck, as if hearing the voice of the gods and realizing it for the first time. But Vincent held her close, trembling so violently Tifa began to be concerned and then her heart did that funny little flip-flop as his reply breathed in her ear. She squenched her eyes closed and clasped him just as tightly, but then she yelped in surprise as both of them collapsed on the shower floor, she haphazardly propped against the wall with Vincent sprawled across her lap. Blinking water from her eyes, she couldn't help but giggle. "Maybe we should get out of the shower, Vincent," she suggested, smoothing back hair plastered to his cheeks. "I'm getting all wrinkly." She wiggled a hand before his nose. "See? Raisiny."

**Vincent: **He looked at her with mild confusion, then noticed that her fingers were looking a bit like prunes. For the life of him, movement seemed like far too much effort, so he only nodded, then looked down at his lap. "So am I," he mused, regarding his softening member. Raisiny indeed.

He flushed a little but remained leaning against the wall. "I think perhaps smelling like sex can't be helped at this particular moment." At least they would smell like sex and lavender, which might hide any scent from the humans of the group. Then he remembered... Nanaki. No doubt the cat had heard and scented them the whole night long. A small smirk tugged at one corner of his lips. He'd hear no end of this from that feline.

He strained and reached the faucet knobs, turning the water off and leaving them soaked and cooling on the shower floor, with no visible effort to get up on his part. "That better?" He pulled her back down to him, kissing her one more time, savoring that slippery feel of her against him for a little longer. Then, with reluctance he released her, his keen ears picking up the noise of the others returning downstairs.

"I guess we should get dressed now." He neglected to inform her of their friends' return, since it would do her little good to rush. Vincent stood on shaky legs and helped her do the same, sighing in relief when his knees popped and some of the unsteadiness subsided. They stepped out of the shower and he wrapped a large, plush towel around her shoulders, then fixed one around his waist. His stomach suddenly tightened, gnawing at his gut with a small growl. His brow furrowed slightly as he placed a hand over his complaining middle. "Planet, I'm hungry..."

**Tifa: **

They tripped and slipped their way out of the shower, Tifa not minding at all the still-rubberiness of her legs or the coltishness of Vincent's normally graceful and poised stance. She laughed and giggled heartily, burrowing into the towel and drying off a bit. Her eyes twinkled as she heard his stomach growl; hers echoed one to match.

"Goodness, appears I am too. I wonder if they'll bring us anything from breakfast," she chuckled. Tifa went into the bedroom to finish drying off and dress, slipping on undies and a light sundress and simply piling her damp hair atop her head. She looked up with wide eyes as she heard commotion in the house, her gaze flying to Vincent on the other side of the bed, calmly pulling on pants and shirt.

A gasp of fright clogged in her throat, but she swallowed it, determined not to be _afraid_ of her friends. But nerves got the better of her and she forced a small laugh, saying as she went to the door, "Well, I guess they're back. Um…I'll go see what I can find for lunch, ok?" _And head off the inevitable questions_, she thought wildly as she exited the bedroom.

**Vincent: **

In the kitchen, Yuffie was rattling away about an upgrade she'd made to her shuriken. Not something to make it perform better in battle, but rather than allowed her to equip even more materia. Though she'd matured some, one thing everyone knew she'd never outgrow was her love of and greed for all things small, round and shiny.

Cid had given up trying to interrupt her and now watched Barret stare into what had to be his fifth cup of coffee this morning. The large black man was staring into the cup with what appeared might be a mix between nausea and morbid fascination, like watching some huge catastrophe or frying a bug beneath the concentrated sunlight shining through a magnifying glass. Barret usually only wore a similar look when the group happened to speak on some disgusting subject, as often happened when everyone was bored. Well, at least Cid, Yuffie and Barret would ponder over gross and otherwise useless subjects. The rest usually elected to stay out of the conversation.

The blond had asked Barret if anything was wrong earlier, but the man had grunted and shrugged it off as not getting enough sleep. Cid could understand that, given the night before. Still, that cat was acting awful strange, too. He'd been just shy of perky all morning. Red had met them on their way back, a curious spring to his four-legged step.

_Ah, fuck it,_ Cid mused. _If it's anything important, I'll find out eventually. It could simply be the leftovers of last night's celebration. Speaking of... Tifa's sleeping late. Well, guess she would be exhausted, what with all the dancing and the attention and excitement. Where the hell is Valentine? _

As if on cue, Tifa entered the kitchen, hair damp from her shower. All eyes went to her, and Yuffie ceased her prattle, grinning at the older woman, "Afternoon, sleepy head! 'Bout time you got outta bed..." Cid smirked and added his two cents, "What'd you have to drink last night, Tif? Must'a knocked you on yer ass..."

All laughter and jokes stopped, however, when Vincent entered, from Tifa's bedroom. It was until that very moment that he realized his hair was damp, like Tifa's, and that it was something the group might take into account along with the facts that both had "slept in" and both had come into the kitchen at almost the same time, from the same bedroom. Nothing more to do than offer a half-smile and an awkward greeting, Vincent supposed. "Good afternoon."

**Tifa: **

Tifa was just about to answer Cid's query with a giggled reply when she heard the door behind her open and saw her friends' faces drift behind her. And _stare_. Her first defense was to bristle and remind them just _whose_ home this was and that she was a _big girl_ and…but then she saw the barely concealed grin on Nanaki's feline face and swallowed the harsh words.

"I really didn't have anything all that strong, Cid," she answered brightly, retrieving her coffee cup, automatically along with Vincent's, and filling both with the hot liquid. Hearing him behind her, she handed him his without glancing around and doctored her own, taking a long swallow, mostly for courage, mostly to quell her trembling.

But she forced a bright smile, asking, "Did you bring any leftovers? Or eat more than necessary, as usual?" She moved from the kitchen to the living area, sitting down on the loveseat, since everything else was occupied by her guests and folded a leg underneath her. She could hear the kids gallivanting about outside and was thankful.

Questions were _bound_ to be asked and better they remain innocent of such for a while. Looking up, Tifa's gaze encountered Barret's, and the hardness in his dark eyes made her heart sink.

**Vincent: **

For a long moment he just looked at her, letting her take in his stare and the emotions behind it, then spoke. "So. You wit' him now?" It was a rhetorical question. He kept his voice low enough, at least. He followed that with, "This a one time thing, or what?" In the kitchen, where Vincent was digging through the leftovers that Yuffie had retained just enough coherent thought to point out, the rest of the group remained behind once Barret had followed Tifa into the living room.

Vincent spread strawberry cream cheese over a mini bagel and kept his eyes on the task when Cid leaned back in his chair and let out a long, low whistle. "Sunshine, fuck if I'm wrong... but I'll fore-go playin' stupid to guess you an' Tifa weren't just chattin' all mornin." Shera elbowed the pilot in the side and fussed at him under her breath that he shouldn't say anything.

Red's feline grin spread to bare fangs and he chuckled, an intermittent, rough purr. Vincent felt the blood rise to his cheeks, and turned a brighter shade at Yuffie's next comment.

"Gosh... I thought guys like you were just celibate or something." She then giggled, "No wonder you guys slept in so late! Ohhh my gosh..." She ran out of the room and into the living area, fully intent on prying out some details.

Valentine only sighed and stuffed the whole mini bagel into his mouth. He didn't care to answer Cid at the moment... awkward or not, he was still really hungry.

"Damn, Vinny. You and Tifa, huh?" Cid found himself chuckling, then laughing. "Damn."

**Tifa: **

Tifa couldn't help it, she fidgeted. Barret was like a father to her and to disappoint him cut deeper than Sephiroth's Masamune ever could. She put down her coffee cup on the small table and, with a guarded glance to the kitchen, replied, "Barret…please." She flushed deeply, lowering her eyes. "…well, I guess you could put it that way…" she faltered, then blushed harder, staring at her toes, finally lifting her eyes to meet Barret's gaze.

"I doubt it would be, Barret. Vincent's been here…for a long time. Even before this, when Cloud was…" she trailed off and took a steadying breath. "I don't want to be alone anymore, Barret," she said quietly, looking straightly at him. "Vincent…cares. He really does. We've been through a lot, the two of us. Not all of it good. And not all of you can understand, but that gives us a bond to share. I don't regret it, nor will I. I loved Cloud, but he's gone. And Vincent…has never given me reason not to trust his intentions."

She fell quiet as Yuffie burst into the living room, heaving a deep sigh to the younger's questions. "Yuffie, please," she said tiredly, "some things are just _not_ your business." Disgusted, both with herself for feeling ashamed and her friends for making her feel so, Tifa rose from the couch and went downstairs and reflexively began to finish putting away the groceries from earlier that morning.

_To be continued…_


End file.
